Biggles Goes to South America
by Libertie
Summary: Biggles doesn't like not being in charge. Especially where Algy's concerned.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE - Adjustments**

The sky over London was grey with rain clouds, which spilled their contents in torrents, drenching all who were foolhardy enough to venture out. Some called the rain a downpour, others said it bucketed down or rained cats and dogs but to the three men standing beside a newly dug grave, it hardly seemed to register. Not one of them wore a hat, each one holding his in his hands, and the rain plastered their hair and ran down the backs of their necks and inside their collars. To them, it was nothing. There seemed to be so much misery around them that it didn't really matter that they were soaked through. There was a wind too, which seemed to do nothing but add more misery to the scene, sending leaves scurrying here and there along with bits of rubbish, sighing in the trees and causing the wreaths on the grave to shiver. One wreath, slightly larger than the rest, was suddenly shifted by a particularly strong gust and it slid down the side of the new mound, causing a miniature landslide.

One of the men moved forwards. He picked up the wreath and as he did so the card attached to it fell off. He placed the wreath back where it belonged and picking up the card, looked at it. The writing was now blurred, it's message unreadable, the few words written on it now lost to whoever may have stopped by to read it. But he knew what it said, for he had written the card not forty-eight hours earlier.

"Algy, old lad, may all your landings be soft with no dud engines."

Biggles fastened the card back onto its metal clip and stood for a moment staring down at it. Then as if coming to a sudden decision, he spun round on his heel and went to join Ginger and Bertie.

One month later, Biggles was sitting at his desk in his office in Scotland Yard when the phone rang. Biggles answered it, listened for a second, said "I'll be right up" and put the phone down. Stubbing his cigarette out in the already overflowing ashtray on his desk he said to no one in particular "Hold the fort. I'll be back shortly." and disappeared out of the door.

Ginger and Bertie looked at each other. Bertie shrugged and they both carried on with their respective tasks.

A few minutes later Ginger flung his pen down and snarled. "I can't stand this much longer. Something's got to break soon. Either Biggles or my temper. He's said nothing, not a word about -" words failing him, he waved his hands vaguely

"Well, old bean, you know Biggles, better than me, I'd say. He's got an awful lot on his mind. He's never been one for showing his feelings. Keeps things close to his chest. He'll talk to us when he's ready."

"But it's been a month!" exclaimed Ginger, his voice rising in his anger. He stood up suddenly, sending his chair toppling. Without righting it he went over to the window and looked out over the London rooftops, now basking in glorious sunshine. "Surely there must be something we can do?"

Bertie, rightly taking this question as being rhetorical didn't even answer.

Biggles, meanwhile, was seated in his usual chair opposite Air Commodore Raymond's desk, smoking a cigarette taken from the box on the desk. For a few moments Raymond didn't speak but merely looked at his chief operational pilot.

"Bigglesworth" he started. "I know how you feel, how frustrating everything is. But there was nothing you could do –then."

"I've never liked asking someone to do something I wasn't prepared to do myself." Biggles grated, stubbing his half-smoked cigarette out viciously. "Leading from behind a desk was never my style. And I wasn't even leading. Someone else was pulling the strings. And Algy-out there without the back-up we could have given him, should have given him."

Sighing faintly, Raymond carried on. "We've been through all that. You knew it wasn't possible. Lacey knew it wasn't possible. You are simply too well-known.

We had to let things take their course, at least in the beginning. But I didn't bring you here to talk about the last few weeks." He paused. "We've heard something."

For the first time in weeks, a flicker of interest showed in Biggles eyes. Raymond continued. "Major Charles has received some intelligence that is of immense interest, particularly to you."

"Well, let's have it" Biggles said, shortly, almost rudely.

Raymond raised an eyebrow at this but let it pass. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them.

"A message was received last night which had come from our embassy in Buenos Aries. A coded message, but there is now no doubt. We know the route being used. It's been confirmed. The Soviets are taking all the Nazi plunder back to Moscow.

"And –" Here he leaned forwards "there are a lot of names and addresses of Nazis now residing in Argentina and Panama."

"That's not much good." Biggles scoffed. "There's no extradition treaty with those countries. That wasn't in the original plan anyway. I wouldn't have agreed to Algy going just for that and a few baubles, however much everyone's screaming for revenge."

"But in one of those houses is a list of the founding members of the proposed Fourth Reich. What is more there is also written evidence showing that these founder members are going to make a new life for themselves in Moscow. They and the plunder are going to fly to Moscow in about two weeks time."

Biggles stared. "So it's true!"

That Air Commodore nodded grimly. "I thought that would put a different complexion on things. We want you to fly that plane."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO – A Dangerous Assignment**

Biggles stifled his first impulse which was to tell Raymond he was stark, staring mad. Instead he uttered one strangled word.

"Sir?"

Raymond wasn't fooled. "I'm not mad, Bigglesworth. What we want you to do is be in the cockpit of that plane when they get on it. All you have to do then is fly it to the Falklands. We'll take it from there."

"Is that all?" Biggles asked, sarcastically. "what details do we have?"

"All the information couldn't be put into one coded message. But we do know there are about ten men. This is an opportunity we can't afford to turn down, Bigglesworth. As you know, the Fourth Reich must not be allowed to be formed. With the Russians behind it there's a real chance of that happening. It simply doesn't bear thinking about. We have the opportunity to stop that in its tracks. And with all the information we have gathered we can now put out proper warnings at all the ports and airports. We can catch the small fry in the nets too. For the first time since the war ended we have a real chance of catching them. If we can also get our hands on their gold and bank accounts we can kill two birds with one stone. Return property to their rightful owners and cut off the enemy's money supplies. Without gold or currency the whole thing will eventually fold. Even the communists can't survive without money." He pressed his point home. "That was the whole point of the mission, Bigglesworth. To establish if there was, in fact, a Fourth Reich being formed and to identify the founder members. We've exceeded all expectations."

"Yes, but at what cost? It's not over yet, sir. Things could still go wrong."

"I know that as well as you do. I also know how eager you are to get over there so I suggest you take yourself off as soon as you can, Now we have this information we can act on it. I suggest you base yourself at Port Stanley. We're still persona non grata at the moment with the Argentines and it wouldn't do for anyone to get wind of the fact that you're over there, certainly not until you're ready to move. As you know we've gone to an awful lot of trouble to pull wool over their eyes and so far we've succeeded. Let me know what you need and I'll see that you get it."

"Just one other thing, sir. Most of the Nazi gold and treasure which was taken over to South America went by submarine. Even the largest cargo plane we have today will not be able to cart all that back to Moscow. The pay load would simply be too heavy."

Raymond nodded. "You make a good point. But consider this. I've said the Soviets are taking it all back to Moscow but quite a lot of it will have been distributed by now. Nine thousand Nazis fled to South America of which five thousand settled in Argentina and you can bet they're all living off that plunder. They'll not be so eager to see it go. I foresee a bit of a squabble going on over there. It might be possible to turn that to our advantage. Something you might consider. We believe the founder members will take the most valuable small stuff, jewellery, paintings without their frames, ornaments that sort of thing. That could still be quite a haul. The rest of the hoard we think they will return the same way it came, by submarine, unless they take it all by air over a period of time"

Biggles nodded. "Then if you'll excuse me, sir, as you say, I'm eager to get started."

Biggles didn't waste any time. Almost before he had walked into the office he was calling to the other two, "Right, let's get cracking. We're off and we've a heck of a lot to do."

Ginger turned from the window. "About time too. What did he have to say?"

Biggles filled them in on his conversation with Raymond. "As far as we're concerned" he finished. "we can proceed with the first part of our plan. We'll know more when we get to Port Stanley."

Bertie polished his eyeglass vigorously with his handkerchief. "So, old warrior, all you have to do is sit in the cockpit of this plane, wait for them all to climb in and then tootle off to Port Stanley?"

Biggles nodded. "That's about the size of it."

"Nothing to it, then, old boy, slice of cake. Where's it flying from?"

"That we don't know yet. That's the sort of information we should be given when we get to Port Stanley."

"And just who is going to be keeping an eye on those rather unpleasant specimens of humanity while you're in the cockpit?" Ginger asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Me, with a pistol? One whiff of anything not quite right and the game'll be up. I don't want to go anywhere near them with a bargepole on dry land much less than be sitting next to them at ten thousand feet when they discover they're on a completely different compass course to the one they thought they were on. And it won't take much for them to spot it. We'll be flying south when they'll be expecting to fly north-east. Some of them will be pilots, don't forget. I don't fancy starting a fight in mid-air with that nest of vipers for anything."

"We'll tackle that when we come to it. Now get the maps Ginger, and let's re-check our route."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE – A Surprise and a Shock for Biggles

Having previously planned and prepared everything they possibly could, it was only five days after his meeting with Raymond that Biggles, with Bertie and Ginger were on their way to the Falklands. The five days delay, although irksome, could not be avoided as Raymond obtained the necessary permissions required to travel over certain countries from the appropriate embassies and the carnets required for petrol and oil. Using a Halifax, on loan from the RAF, with civil markings and a reserve tank added they took the usual Atlantic route from Dakar in West Africa to Natal in Brazil and then joined the trunk route which ran down the eastern coast of South America.

Normally Biggles would have taken such a long route by easy stages, but he was anxious to get to Port Stanley as quickly as possible and the others, knowing this, made no protest, but took it in turns flying for many hours, snatching a sleep in the cabin when they were not sitting in the pilot's seat. When they stopped to refuel they also took the opportunity to have a hasty meal. But whilst Biggles may have been in a rush he did not commit the folly of assuming everything was working fine and so at Natal, in Brazil they spent a complete day thoroughly overhauling the machine, also taking the opportunity to take a bath and a few hours sleep in a proper bed.

On they went again, with the same punishing routine. Ginger was heartily sick of the sight of the Atlantic and said so.

"Make up your mind" Biggles told him tersely. "A few days ago you were moaning that you couldn't do anything. Now you're doing something you're still not happy."

"I'll be glad when we can actually do something" retorted Ginger. "This sitting around doesn't suit me at all."

"Well, if you don't like sitting around you can go and wake Bertie. It's his turn to take the stick."

Arriving at the Falklands they were met by the British Naval Officer in charge, Lieutenant-Commander Arnold. Leaving Ginger and Bertie to supervise the refuelling of the Halifax he went with Arnold to his office to complete the formalities. This done, Arnold sat back in his chair and looked at Biggles.

"I'm not going to pry" was his opening statement. "It's none of my business why you're here, but I've been asked by the Air Ministry to give you all the cooperation you need. Have you any idea how long you're likely to be here?"

"At the moment, no," Biggles answered. "For the next couple of days, certainly. I'm waiting for a communiqué from our Embassy in Buenos Aires. Until that arrives I couldn't say. But if it doesn't arrive within the next day or so I may have to go and fetch it myself."

"That might not be necessary" Arnold replied. "The Governor's Private Secretary has given me instructions to take you to Government House. So it may be that it's in the Diplomatic Bag in which case I might not know of it. I've a car waiting. It shouldn't take long. In the meantime, I can arrange to have your men shown to your accommodation."

To this Biggles agreed and it was not long before he was being shown into the library of the residence of the Governor of the Falkland Islands.

As he walked in Biggles paused on the threshold. To his surprise he saw there was another person there, a man seated in a wing chair by the fire, reading a newspaper. As he went further into the room a well-known voice from behind the newspaper spoke.

"Well, if that's your idea of a good obituary I've half a mind to ask if Bertie will do the job when my time really comes. Faithful friend, indeed. You made me sound like a pet labrador."

The newspaper was lowered and he found himself staring into the grinning face of Algy.

"I never was much good at that sort of thing, as you very well know." Biggles retorted as Algy stood up. He shot forward to shake Algy's hand and slap him on the shoulder. "But what are you doing here? We thought you'd still be in Buenos Aires. That's where we thought we'd have to contact you. Not that I'm not glad to see you." he hastened to add.

Algy's grin faded a little. "There's been a development which I thought you should know about" he stated, sitting down again. "Something that I felt I couldn't send in a signal. So when I knew your ETA I shot down here." At that moment the door opened and a man servant arrived with a pot of tea. There was silence while he arranged the tray on a table and left. Algy picked up the teapot. "I'll wait until Ginger and Bertie are with us to tell you everything so I don't have to go through it again, but the most important point is this." He poured two cups of tea, added the required amount of sugar and milk, handed one to Biggles and took a sip from his own cup before he spoke again. Biggles, his eyes on Algy, lit a cigarette and waited.

"Most afternoons around about 4 o'clock I go for a cup of coffee at a café near my hotel. Anyway, about four days ago, I was having a coffee, wondering when I could expect you when someone walked in that I knew. A Herr Kaufmann. He had with him a man who he said was a friend who lived in Argentina but had been visiting friends in Chile. He introduced him to me. His name's Brunow."

Biggles gave a start, spluttered and nearly spilled his tea.

"Who did you say?" he asked sharply.

"Brunow." Algy repeated, keeping his eyes on Biggles face.

"Impossible," he snapped. "He was executed, years ago, just after Palestine." *

"No" Algy's voice was firm. "He wasn't. He's alive and he's living in Buenos Aires."

*See 'Biggles Flies East'


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR – Explanations**

For a few seconds Biggles didn't speak. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed the hour and Biggles turned in his seat to look at it.

"Well, that's a real turn up for the books" he remarked as he stood up. "I'm not even sure what to think of that at present. We'll discuss him later. Let's go and find Ginger and Bertie and grab a bite to eat. I know they're anxious to see you. Where are you staying and how long are you staying for?"

"Well, I was offered a bed here but I'd rather be with you so they've found me a bed in the Mess. I should go back no later than the day after tomorrow. I promised the Governor I'd take some despatches back to the Embassy." Algy stood and stretched. "I'll just go and have a word with his Private Secretary and then I'll be ready."

Half-an-hour later, after catching up with Ginger and Bertie the four were seated round a table, each eager to hear what the others had to say. Algy started. He picked up a knife and absent-mindedly drew a pattern on the tablecloth with the blade while he put his thoughts into order.

"As you know," he began "Raymond wanted me to find out if there was any truth in the rumour that certain Ex-Nazis living in South America were planning a Fourth Reich and also if they were planning to fly to East Germany or Russia to start it." He looked at Biggles "That was the tenuous link with aviation which you thought the Air Ministry were using as an excuse to bring you in."

Biggles nodded. "I still think it. This is one of the dirtiest jobs we've been asked to handle and I didn't want to take it. Especially, as it transpired, they'd got their eye on you."

"Well, you couldn't do it. Thanks to our dear friend, Erich, everyone in Berlin knew your name and quite half of them had seen your photograph." He grinned. "I must admit I was a bit flabbergasted when Raymond suggested that they could improve my chances of remaining unknown if they thought I was dead."

Bertie broke in, polishing his eyeglass with the tablecloth, nearly pulling it off in his agitation. "That, old boy, was the absolute bally limit, the very end, in fact. Didn't know what to do with myself at all when people came up commiserating and all that, didn't know what to say." He put his eyeglass back in place, righted the crockery on the table and sighed. "Not right at all, no, by jove. The silly old buffer must have had a brainstorm."

Biggles frowned at Bertie's description of the Air Commodore but said nothing, for he had, in fact, been thinking pretty much along the same lines himself.

Algy suddenly looked at Biggles. "You did make sure I was still being paid, I hope? I don't want to find myself dead on the payroll."

Biggles smiled broadly. "Raymond saw to that himself, don't worry. And your driving licence, bank accounts etc are safe. Unfortunately, though, I had to pay off your bill at the Aero Club." He raised an eyebrow at Algy.

"I guess I'll have a bit of explaining to do when I get back then" Algy remarked cheerfully. "You may not have liked it, Biggles, but it did work. Here." He fumbled in his jacket pocket, brought out his wallet and opening it, took out a newspaper cutting which he spread on the table.

The others crowded round to look at it. They saw a very grainy picture, of three men by a grave, one of them stooping over a wreath.

The caption beneath was in German. Algy took out another bit of paper. "This cutting is from the 'Neues Deutschland', East Germany's leading newspaper. I got the Embassy to translate it" and he passed the paper round.

" **British Air Ace Dies"**

The funeral took place a week ago of the Honourable Algernon Montgomery Lacey, DFC, in London, England. Lacey was an associate of another British Air Ace, Major James Bigglesworth, DSO, DFC. Bigglesworth has been an enemy of the State since before the cessation of hostilities at the end of the First World War. Both he and Lacey have been spies for Great Britain since, their latest cover being that of Special Air Police, a front so false as to be laughable. It is a proven fact that their efforts against our homeland have not been successful and it is to be wondered that such men are still allowed to trespass upon another country's affairs. Our country will still fight such tactics and will prevail against the West's encroaching power.

Since the funeral neither Bigglesworth nor his other two associates have been seen, nor have they given interviews. Can it be that this time Bigglesworth is finally washed up and will be seen to be what he has always been; a man without substance who relies on others to do what he dare not do himself and takes credit for dead men's deeds?"


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE – Algy's Story**

There was silence for a moment and then Ginger spoke, so loudly that other officers at their tables turned their eyes towards them.

"Well, of all the nerve. What a total pack of lies. Why, Biggles, you-"

"Keep your voice down" Biggles hissed at Ginger. "and calm down. This is just typical soviet propaganda. It means nothing."

"It means everything" proclaimed Ginger, but in a lower tone. "How dare they-"

Once more Biggles interrupted. "Forget it" he said sharply. He turned to Algy. "Go on, Algy. We're listening."

"This cutting was given to me by Herr Kaufmann, the man who introduced Brunow."

"Brunow?" Ginger queried. "Wasn't he the man who's place Biggles took in Palestine? I thought you said he'd been shot."

"Let Algy tell his story" Biggles retorted. "We'll talk about that later."

"Okay, I'll start at the beginning and then maybe you'll get the full picture." At that moment the mess orderly arrived with their meal. When he had gone Algy continued. "As you know, my brief was to try and make contact with a few ex-nazis and try and gain their confidence, listen in to their conversations and generally try and insinuate myself into their circle. My cover was that of a pilot who'd been dismissed from Pan Am under a bit of a cloud and was hanging around looking for a job. The Embassy at Buenos Aires had been very good, getting all the papers I needed and providing me with a contact. I was staying at the Hotel Don Juan, a medium-priced hotel in the centre of Buenos Aires, not far from the local café, the 'Vengador Negro - 'the Black Avenger' where a few ex-Nazis tended to hang out. " Algy took a bite of his food and continued.

"At first I did nothing much, did a bit of sightseeing, loafed around the hotel and went for coffee at the Black Avenger' trying to look as though I was at a bit of a loose end. A few days after I arrived I was approached by a man I now know as Herr Johann Kaufmann. He introduced himself and he bought me a coffee. At the time I didn't know what to make of him but I now know he was deputy to Oberst Friedmann."

"Friedmann?" Biggles queried. "The one they call 'the peacemaker?"

"Isn't he the one who ordered the massacre of a whole village?" Ginger asked. "Some peacemaker! I thought he was dead."

"That's what we were lead to believe" Algy declared. "A bit ironic, isn't it? It seems Raymond wasn't the only one to have that bright idea." His words may have have been humorous but the others weren't deceived. There was a hard edge to Algy's voice. He suddenly put down his fork and looked at each of them in turn. "Look, I'm sorry, but I've been breathing foul air for weeks. Let's talk of something else while we finish our meal, if you don't mind."

The others acquiesced, and for a few moments conversation about mundane topics was attempted. But it was clear Algy was not happy and one by one, they each put down their knives and forks. Biggles finally spoke.

"Let's go back to my room" he suggested. The others, clearly relieved, agreed and they rose from the table, leaving a half-eaten meal, which led the orderly to observe to his senior later that it was a disgrace. The war might have ended but there was still some rationing going on although, by the look of it the RAF didn't seem to know about it.

Back in Biggles room, everyone found a perch. Algy, by unspoken consent, was given the armchair, Biggles sitting on his bed with Bertie, while Ginger took the hard chair, reversed it, sat down and rested his arms on the back.

Algy resumed his tale with an apology. "I'm sorry about that" he said, lighting a cigarette "but it just makes me mad, having to act as though I agree with – well, having to pretend I sympathise with them. Let me tell you something. Since I started this job I feel dirty. I have a bath every night and I still don't feel clean. Listening to that lot, talking about what they did, how it went all wrong, and how they would put it right the next time makes me sick to my stomach. Today, for the first time in ages, I felt as though I was breathing clean air." He looked at Biggles. "You were right. This is the dirtiest job we've been asked to do. Quite frankly, I've had enough. I'm not sure how much more I can take."

There was silence for a moment. Then Biggles spoke. "We have enough, I think, to carry on with. If you want to pull out we can –"

"No" Algy declared, "forget what I said. I'm just glad you're here, glad there's someone I can talk to. I don't think it's going to be much longer, anyway. I know they're going to fly out sometime next week but the actual details haven't been revealed yet." He took another draw on his cigarette. "I was telling you about Kaufmannn. He talked too much and drank too much, which, as far as I was concerned, was a good thing. Over the next week or so I cultivated his friendship and through him I got to meet a few others. When they discovered I was a pilot they started ingratiating themselves with me. I was even invited to a cocktail party thrown by one of the more senior party members." He grimaced. "The less said about that the better. Nothing much was said and I was introduced to some people who'd been very influential in Berlin. But I felt a bit like a prize cow being eyed over to see how many steaks it would make." He stubbed his cigarette out and unusually for him, lit another straight away. "I left as soon as I decently could but while I was waiting for my coat I overheard a couple of chaps talking. It seems they'd had a pilot lined up but it had fallen through. There'd been some discussion as to whether it would be as well if some of the members who were ex-Luftwaffe pilots were to fly the plane, but it was felt there would be difficulties with the pilots licences, since none of them had one and the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. So it was back to square one. They needed a pilot and obviously I'd been invited to be looked over."

"The next day, I met Kaufmann in the café as usual. He asked me if I'd enjoyed the evening and I said yes, it was nice to be amongst civilised people, or something along those lines. I hinted that being a bit broke I missed that sort of thing and couldn't wait to get a decently paid job so I could taste the finer things in life again. He fell for it, hook, line and sinker." Algy paused and looked round them all. "That's when he mentioned there just might be a job for me and was I interested. I said yes, of course I was as long as it was flying. I said I was fed up just taking the odd job here and there which paid peanuts. He then asked if I'd ever flown to Russia. I told him I had while I'd been with Pan Am and that I'd been to Moscow. He looked pleased at that then said he'd have to contact some people but he'd get back to me in a couple of days. Well, by then, he'd whetted my appetite so I invited him to have a drink." Here, Algy grinned. "I shamelessly got him drunk. It didn't take much and by the time we parted company I'd got out of him what the job was really about. I even took him back to his place and handed him over to his manservant with instructions to put him to bed, hoping he'd forget he'd spilled the beans." He stubbed out his second cigarette, but did not light another. "That's when I sent the signal to Raymond, confirming the rumours they'd heard, the reason why I'd been sent out here in the first place. I knew then you'd be over and I'd begun to make arrangements to meet up with you in Buenos Aires. But then Kaufmann came in that day with Brunow."

"Was it the same Brunow?" Ginger asked again, looking at Algy keenly. "The one you thought had been shot? But how come-"

"We thought he had been shot" Biggles interrupted, "but obviously he got away. Under normal circumstances I'd be interested to find out how, but at present he certainly mustn't see me or even suspect I'm around. Is there any danger of him recognising you, Algy?"

"Well, he didn't when we first met in the café. Had I even an inkling he was coming I'd have made myself scarce, I can tell you. But he was drunk, remember, and you'd given him an awful whack over the head. I doubt if he even knows he'd been stuffed under your bed. When he'd come to properly he was behind British Lines and that was all he could think about, nursing a huge hangover and headache as he was. He was too angry to have noted who I was, I think. In any case, he believes me to be dead. He'd got a copy of that cutting too, and he and Kaufmann had been poring over it, for Brunow turned to me and asked if I knew the Britisher Lacey. Naturally I said no and he said that Lacey was the best friend of that other Britisher the bedrohung [1] Bigglsworth and that he was glad I was dead. And then he took out his wallet and showed me a picture of you. Everyone in this scheme has a picture of you with orders to report the minute they spot you. I've even got one myself. 'But he will not come now', he said 'because his friend is dead and he is finished. He has no stomach for the fight that he has to fight on his own'. I could have knocked his teeth down his throat."

Bertie spoke for the first time. ""Point him out to me, old boy and I'll knock his teeth down his throat for you" he offered savagely.

Algy smiled warmly at this unusually violent outburst from Bertie and then went on. "It seems Brunow had gone to Chile to see a pilot friend of his who lives there but nothing came of it. So it looks as if I'm in the frame. I didn't want to appear too eager so I said I'd managed to get a couple of days flying in Ecuador and would have a think about it while I was away. That's where they think I am now. I'm fairly sure they'll be offering me the job when I get back."

Biggles took out of his pocket the newspaper cutting he'd picked up when they had left the mess. He smoothed it out on the bed.

"I hate to admit it but this proves Raymond was right when he said we had to visit the cemetery to keep up appearances. Looks as though someone was keeping an eye on us. Whoever took this photo was probably someone from the Russian embassy." he told the others. He looked at Algy. "I hated the whole thing, as you know. Too theatrical for my liking. As Bertie has already pointed out, it was damned difficult for us when we met someone we knew. In the end we just decided to keep a low profile."

"Just as a matter of curiosity" Algy said a little awkwardly. "Is it empty?" He leaned over and tapped the photo. "I mean- I'd have quite liked to have had a bit of a say in the matter, but I was gone before it all kicked off. I read my obituary, of course." He grinned at Biggles "but that was about it."

"No it wasn't empty." Biggles spoke quietly. "The chaps who do this sort of thing were talking about old books, lead weights etc but then an opportunity came up that I thought too good to miss as well as helping an old soldier. There is someone in there." He lit a cigarette and continued. "One ex-Corporal Tommy Pearson, one of Johnny Crisp's lot. He'd crawled into a bottle of whisky at the end of the war and never crawled out. He was destined for a pauper's grave. I met Johnny in the Aero Club where he was organizing a whip round to try and give Tommy a decent send-off. I thought you'd approve. When this is finished he'll get a proper headstone. Johnny thought Tommy would be tickled pink to be of service to his country one more time."

There was silence for a few moments and then Ginger yawned. Biggles looked up and stubbed out his cigarette.

"Well, I'm turning in. We've all had a long day. Tomorrow we'll give the machine a complete overhaul. Algy, are you still staying for a day or so?"

Algy nodded. "I'd better. I'm supposed to be on a job so it wouldn't do to return too early."

"Good. Then we've got time to get things sorted. We'll have to move nearer to Buenos Aires, I think, but we can discuss that later. Let's get some blanket drill."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX – A Headache for Algy**

The next morning the four airmen were looking over the Halifax. Biggles thought Algy looked a little less strained and once again he felt a feeling of anger that they'd not been allowed to join Algy sooner. No matter how sensible the decision, Biggles had been fully aware of how vulnerable Algy had been – and still was. He looked across to him sitting in the co-pilot's seat where they were waiting for instructions from Ginger who was working on one of the port engines.

Algy caught the look and grinned. "Did you manage to speak to my guv'nor?" he asked, with studied casualness.

"Yes, just before we came out." He smiled at Algy. "The old boy gave me a message to pass onto you. Told me to tell you to keep your head below the parapet. He may be a cantankerous old walrus, Algy, but he does care, you know."

Algy grunted. "I know. He just doesn't show it much, never has." A shout from outside drew his attention and he stuck his head out of the cockpit window to listen to Ginger's instructions.

The overhaul finished they had a leisurely lunch and then retired to Biggles' room to make their plans. It would not do, Biggles thought, to be in Port Stanley whilst Algy was in Buenos Aires and they discussed the various options open to them as a base.

"Algy" Biggles looked keenly at his friend. "What made you tell them you were going to Ecuador? It's quite a distance, about two and a half thousand miles, by my calculations."

"I know, but I wanted it to be a place that was difficult for any of them to check up on me. It's a bit difficult to get there using commercial airlines. I'm quite sure their network of spies is spread pretty far, but I thought I'd be fairly safe with that."

"I'm sure, too. Just make sure they don't see your passport, otherwise they'll be wondering why it hasn't got an Ecuadorian stamp."

Algy grinned. "No worries on that score. The boffins in the embassy did a nice job for me." He dug his hand into his pocket and drew out a slightly battered passport and handed it to Biggles. The passport bore the name Derek Jameson. Biggles flipped through it, noting that Derek Jameson had been all over the world, including Moscow, Beijing, Cuba and Australia. The stamp for Ecuador was there, plain to see, slightly overlapping the Argentinian one.

He handed it back. "They've certainly appeared to have given you a colourful background" he admitted. "What if you're quizzed about some of these places you've supposed to have been to?"

"That's easy. I simply say I didn't leave the airport, it was a turnaround job. I've even been given some Ecuadorian money." He pulled out some notes and coins from his pocket. "The sucre and centavo. They think of everything." He looked at them all. "I'm glad you're here now. I hate this undercover stuff as much as you do, but I've been here three days and I'll have to go back soon. I'll stay until the day after tomorrow. That'll give them enough time to wonder if I'm coming back. It just might move things on a bit if they think I'm slipping through their fingers."

"We need to move nearer and open up a line of communication." Biggles lit a cigarette and studied the map spread on the table. For a few moments nothing was said and then Biggles gave a little grunt.

"That's it" he said, stabbing the map with his forefinger. "Here. Fray Bentos, in Uruguay. Where the bully beef comes from."

Ginger grimaced. "It's bad enough having to eat it on these jaunts without having to stay there."

Bertie looked at the map and did a quick calculation. "About 100 miles, old boy. Is that close enough, do you think?"

"It is for now. It's a damned sight closer than here, anyway. It has the advantage of being in Uruguay and they're no lovers of the Nazis so there's very little chance of us being spotted or spied on. Anyway, you and Ginger are going to go and have a little holiday in Buenos Aires shortly to watch Algy's back. But for heaven's sake, keep a low profile."

Three days after leaving Biggles in Port Stanley Algy arrived a day later than planned at Buenos Aires. His plane, a Cessna 170, on loan from the company itself at the request of the British Embassy, developed slight engine trouble and he was forced to spend an extra day at Santa Cruz, where he had planned a fuel stop. That the delay, whilst not in itself of any major importance, was to have far-reaching consequences he couldn't even begin to imagine.

The first intimation that there was something afoot came when he had arrived back at his hotel, where he had taken a room for three months on the pretext of needing a base from which to operate whilst he looked around for suitable accommodation.

He had flung himself on the bed and was staring at the ceiling fan whirring above him when there was a knock on his door. He got up, opened it and found Kaufmann standing on the threshold. Without waiting to be invited in, he entered Algy's bedroom and as soon as Algy had closed the door spun round and glared at him.

"Where have you been? You should have been back before yesterday. There was somebody very important who wanted to see you, very important indeed. It is very embarrassing for me that you were not there." The tone of voice and Kaufmann's evident agitation warned Algy to be extra careful.

"I had engine trouble" he answered non-commitally. "Why? What have I missed?"

"Someone very important" Kaufmann reiterated. "It is really too bad of you, too bad indeed . I should not wonder if-"

"Now, hold hard" Algy interrupted with an edge to his voice. "Just what is this? I was under the impression my movements were my own affair and no-one else's. As far as I'm aware you don't employ me. I'm free to come and go as I choose. As a matter of fact I may just have another job lined up – three months worth so I'll be out of here in a week or so." Algy bluffed, hoping to hurry Kaufmann into a sober admission of what he'd already let slip earlier. He needed more details and a definite plan and the sooner he got them the sooner Biggles would be able to plan his campaign.

It worked. Kaufmann looked at him. "But you cannot" he protested. "I told you I might have a job lined up and you seem to be the ideal candidate. It will pay well and should only be for a few days. I should not be telling you this but I do not want you to go. I have already told people about you."

"If it is to Moscow, as you said " Algy spoke cautiously, not wanting to appear too eager. " you can forget it. This job I've got lined up will pay well too and it's for three months, not a few days."

Kaufmann looked around the room as if expecting to see eavesdroppers hanging from the ceiling and walls. Algy almost smiled, imagining him opening the wardrobe and looking under the bed.

"Yes it is to fly some people to Moscow. You have been there. That is all you have to do."

"Moscow's cold" Algy feigned disinterest. "Why should I fly to Moscow when I can stay here and be warm?" He shrugged.

"We will pay you five thousand pounds" Kaufmann blurted out.

Algy's incredulous stare was genuine. "Five thousand pounds?" he reiterated, his voice coming out a few octaves higher than normal in his surprise. It was an enormous sum, an incredible one, beyond all reason. He had expected to be offered an inflated bonus but nothing on this scale. "Five thousand pounds just to fly a plane to Moscow?"

"Ssh. Do not let anyone know I have said anything. Hauptmann von Stahlein said we must not say until he has seen you, in case you may not be suitable. I cannot see why you should not be" Kaufmann went on, thankfully inspecting his nails so he did not notice Algy's fleeting, stunned expression.

Algy, recovering swiftly, crossed over to his bedside table and picked up his cigarettes. Still keeping his back to Kaufmann, he lit one and drew deeply whilst he pondered this latest and definitely unwanted development. Having composed himself he turned back to Kaufmann. "So where do we go from here?" He added casually.

"Hauptmann von Stahlein has had to go away on business. He will be back in two days. He wants to see you then. You have your logbooks?"

"Of course" Algy replied, thankful the Embassy cover had been thorough. Derek Jameson's papers would stand up to von Stahlein's scrutiny, if not the man himself.

Algy had expected Kaufmann to leave at this point, but he hesitated. Algy looked at him. "Is there anything else?" He asked pointedly. He wanted to be alone to think and to work out how best to contact Biggles. He was aware that if he was to be offered the job, their task would have been so much easier. He, Algy, could have flown the plane to Port Stanley, but unless he could bypass von Stahlein, which he doubted, that was not now an option.

Kaufmann looked at Algy. "I have put my neck out for you" he began, almost petulantly. "I hope you will not fail me".

Algy understood at once. The man was vulnerable. Having latched on to Algy and put his name forward it would be bad for him if things did not turn out as they should. Algy immediately and ruthlessly began to exploit this weakness. "I'll tell you what," he offered."Since you may have found me a plumb job why don't I take you out to dinner? You can then tell me everything I need to know." Once more Kaufmann hesitated and once more Algy took advantage. "If I know everything I can be ready with my answers. I won't let on you've told me everything. Look, if you're going to pay me five thousand I'd be a fool to jeopardize my chances. If I fail, your plan will be delayed until they can find another pilot. Where will that leave you?" There was only a minor hesitation this time and Algy changed tactics. "A steak and a good bottle of red will make things seem much better. Come, one good turn deserves another. It's the least I can do."

Three hours, two bottles of wine and three brandies later, most of which had been consumed by Kaufmann, Algy was in possession of most of what he needed to know. He had questioned Kaufmann as closely as he dared and now knew the intended date and place and the number of people. He also listened, with barely concealed disgust, the future aim of the Fourth Reich.

It was another half-an-hour before he was able to persuade Kaufmann to leave, and he bundled the man into a taxi as quickly as he could, refusing his guest's offer of joining him in a nightcap at his place. With relief he started to walk back to his hotel.

He had been walking for perhaps ten minutes when he realised he had the distinct impression he was being followed. It had started off as no more than a feeling, but then grew with the instinct which had kept him alive for so long in perilous circumstances. He stopped to look in a shop window and spotted a figure further back pausing to light a cigarette. He walked on a few yards and crossed the road. He called in at a street cafe, sat down at a prominent table and ordered the local matte leao tea. He deliberately turned his back on the entrance and only when his tea arrived did he shift his position to see if his unwanted companion was still with him. He was.

Algy did not hurry, for he needed some time to think. His first priority was to get into contact with Biggles and warn him of the latest developments. He did not doubt for one second that von Stahlein had had him followed. The man was thorough and as good at his job as Biggles was at his. Algy doubted if he had the two days grace Kaufmann had mentioned. It was just like the wily Prussian to turn up early and catch him unawares, so he had to see Biggles as soon as possible. He knew, from the plans they had made before he left Port Stanley that Ginger and Bertie should now be in Buenos Aires. They might see him but unless he initiated contact they would ignore him for Biggles had ordered them to keep a low profile. So tomorrow he would set about making himself conspicuous. In the meantime, he finished his drink, paid his bill and walked back to the hotel, allowing his shadow to keep pace with him. Tomorrow would be time enough to lose him.

Algy awoke the next morning early and after breakfast proceeded to put the first part of his plan into operation. He left the hotel and took a walk to the nearest tobacconists and bought some cigarettes. Then he went to a small cafe near his hotel and sat down, ordering a coffee. He lit a cigarette and turned to casually survey the tables. The man he had marked down as following him that morning was seated at a table a little distance away. As he wasn't in any hurry Algy merely sat, drinking his coffee and turning over in his mind the best way to lose his shadow. Making up his mind, he took a taxi to the aerodrome where his aircraft was kept, noting on the way the taxi which was following him. Reaching the aerodrome he spent the morning going around his aircraft, giving it a thorough overhaul, more with the hope of catching his tail off guard through boredom than anything else. In this he was successful, for three hours later he spotted his man sitting rather dejectedly on an old oil drum about a hundred yards away, chatting to one of the mechanics, his back turned towards him. Algy lost no time. He walked out of the hanger and around the back. Within two minutes he was out of sight of the hangar and his shadow. He walked swiftly to the gates and down the road where he managed to get a lift with a passing truck taking vegetables to the market in Buenos Aires.

Thanking the driver Algy alighted at the market place and took a swift look round. Opposite him was a hotel which Algy recognized as being one of those Biggles had said Bertie and Ginger would probably use. It had a cafe outside so he took a seat with his back to the road, facing the hotel entrance and ordered lunch. He had barely started when he noticed out of the corner of his eye a man sit down at the table next to him but facing in the opposite direction, towards the street. He glanced across to find Bertie's smiling face looking at him.

"Hello, old bean" Bertie said, unfolding a newspaper and perusing it. "We were hoping you'd turn up. Got the old info? Biggles is in a bit of a flap. Wants you out of here. He's got a feeling in his bones."

"And with good reason" Algy replied grimly. "First things first. Kauffman has as good as offered me the job. The date is set for the twentieth, in three days time. A plane, at this point I'm not sure which, will land at Aeroparque 17 de Octubre, that new airport east of here, at dawn. After refuelling, it will take off again with me at the stick and those dregs of humanity in the rear. For two pins I'd jettison the fuel and bail out over the drink and leave 'em to it."

"I'm with you there, old boy. But can't be done. An awful lot of people are waiting to get their hands on this bunch and orders is orders. You'd only cop a packet. They're not worth it."

Algy grunted at this but then continued to give Bertie the bad news. "I had a visitor two days ago, apparently. It's a good job I broke down and was a day late returning. Our dear friend Erich's got a finger in this particular pie." Algy quickly filled Bertie in on what had transpired. "By the way where's Ginger?" He asked, looking round.

Bertie jerked his head towards the hotel entrance "On his way. But, here I say old boy, that's dreadful. What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet. I wanted to let Biggles know. Obviously he mustn't see me or the fat will be well and truly in the fire." He suddenly glanced at Bertie keenly, for Bertie had stiffened in a manner that told Algy something was amiss.

"Whatever you do, old boy, don't turn around." Bertie raised his newspaper in front of his face. "Talk of the bally devil. Old Erich's coming this way. Into this hotel, in fact."

Algy froze. He was trapped for there was nowhere to go.

Bertie knowing this, made one of his sudden decisions. "Stay put, Algy, old lad. I'll get him off your back." He lowered his newspaper and before Algy could stop him, got up and walked up to von Stahlein.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN - New Plans**

It was evident to Bertie that he had caught von Stahlein on the hop, as it were. The Prussian was looking slightly ahead at the tables to the right and left, raking them methodically with his eyes as he walked towards the path leading to the entrance of the hotel. That he was searching for somebody was obvious and had it not been for Bertie's intervention he would certainly have seen Algy. As it was, when Bertie 'accidentally' bumped into him his first instinct was to stop and offer a curt apology. The words died on his lips, however, as he perceived Bertie's guileless face and he stiffened.

"Lord Lissie." There was a hint of restraint in his voice and Bertie knew von Stahlein was struggling to get to grips with his sudden appearance.

"What cheer, my merry little globe-trotter." Bertie answered cheerfully, removing his eyeglass and giving it a vigorous polish. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"The same as you, I imagine" von Stahlein answered drily.

"What, the Tango?" Bertie asked innocently. "I'd have thought waltzes were more in your line, old bean. You know, leading people a dance and all that." Bertie replaced his eyeglass. "But I really can't stand talking all day. Got a lesson to go to. Wouldn't do to be late, no, by Jove."

At the same time he moved slightly to one side as if to by-pass von Stahlein but he stepped over too, blocking off Bertie's escape. Bertie looked down to see a small automatic pointed directly at his stomach.

"I regret that you are going to have to miss this lesson" von Stahlein spoke softly, having recovered his poise. "If you are here that means Bigglesworth is here too and no doubt Lacey and Hebblethwaite -ah forgive me, I forget. My condolences."

Bertie nodded coldly and considered his options. However the arrival of two men at von Stahlein's elbow put paid to any hope he had of escape just yet. He fervently hoped that Algy had taken his chance and disappeared into the hotel.

Von Stahlein snapped at the two men and Bertie guessed they were being admonished for being late. He started to move but the automatic was waved at him. "I must ask you to accompany me" von Stahlein said curtly and addressed the two men again who moved to either side of Bertie and took his arms. "You know" he added conversationally as Bertie was frogmarched to a nearby car, "It never ceases to amaze me how Bigglesworth manages to turn up just where he is not wanted."

Bertie shrugged. A quick glance as he was being taken away revealed an empty chair where Algy had been sitting. That was all he needed to know for the moment.

Algy had started up out of his chair when he realised Bertie's intention and his first instinct was to try and stop him. But he was too late. He sat down again, quickly, shifted his chair slightly and, picking up Bertie's discarded newspaper, peered around the edges at von Stahlein. He and Bertie appeared to be having a conversation. That was all the chance Algy needed to take advantage of Bertie's actions. He got up and marched straight into the hotel. There were windows on either side of the door with sofas for the use of hotel guests and Algy swiftly made his way to one of these, and kneeling on one he looked out of the window. He watched with horror as Bertie was frogmarched away. He was reaching for his automatic when a hand was clapped on his shoulder.

"So there you-" a voice began as Algy spun round, automatic now in his hand, to perceive a bemused Ginger. In his haste Algy merely pushed him to one side and raced outside, running down the path, not heeding the startled looks of the customers seated at the tables. Standing in the square staring to the left he spotted a car gunning it's engine. He dashed towards it but the car surged forwards just as a man with a handcart piled high with vegetables walked in front of him. Algy cursed but by the time he had made his way around the cart the car had disappeared and Ginger had caught up with him."What's happened?" Ginger asked, his own gun now in his hand. "And have you seen Bertie? He said he was coming outside in the hopes you'd drop by."

Algy put his gun away and making his way back to the hotel cafe went to one of the empty tables and sat down. "Von Stahlein's got him." he said tersely. "Biggles will have to know about this. Von Stahlein will know he's on the job now. And we have to get Bertie back."

Ginger nodded. "And we don't even know where they'll have taken him" he added practically. "But you'd never have caught up with them, not on foot."

Algy grimaced. "Yes, I know," he said wearily. "Come on. We'll go to your room and talk there."

By the time they had reached Ginger's bedroom Algy had had time to think. His mind clearer, he turned to Ginger and brought him up to date. "This puts a whole new complexion on things" he told him. "Damn von Stahlein for turning up when he did. He must have come here to meet those two men, for they weren't with him when Bertie first bumped into him. It would have been all right otherwise, for Bertie would have managed to get away. Von Stahlein's not too keen on a one-to-one scrap in the middle of the street."

Ginger nodded morosely. "At least your cover's safe for now. What do you want to do?"

Algy ran his hands through his hair. "The first thing is to let Biggles know what's happened. You do that. I'm going to go back to my hotel and the Cafe. Maybe I'll hear something there. I suggest you move hotels now von Stahlein's been here. Go to the Casa des Floreson the Avenue Brasil. You can't miss it. It lives up to it's name; flowers everywhere. No one goes there, the flowers put 'em off. I'll call there later tonight from about 8 onwards. Got that?"

Ginger said he had and after packing his and Bertie's things, checked out of the hotel. Algy had already left, to go to his hotel and 'the Black Avenger' to see whether he could learn anything new.

Algy, returning to his hotel, had a not very satisfactory lunch and then went to his bedroom and lay down on his bed to think things through. His one overwhelming thought was Bertie, for in trying to preserve Algy's cover he had placed himself in danger. Algy was frustrated not knowing what to do for the best. Had he known of Bertie's whereabouts he would have gone there and hang the consequences, so perhaps it was as well he didn't know, he mused.

For about the twentieth time he looked at the clock. It said four-thirty. Ginger would have had plenty of time to get to Biggles and return. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. Ten minutes later, his mind made up, he had a quick wash and made his way to 'The Black Avenger'.

On entering, he had a quick look round. Kaufmann was there along with two others Algy knew slightly. A few locals nodded at him and he gave them a passing 'buenas tardes' in return. Kauffman beckoned him over so he pinned a smile to his face and went over to join him. At first the conversation was of general subjects but then Kauffman turned to him. "There was a little fracas in the market place today" he observed lightly. "Some Englishman was arrested. We do not know who or why but it gives a little excitement to the day."

Algy lifted his drink and was about to take a sip when his hand froze in mid-air. He stared at the door. A man had just entered. It was Biggles.

Algy quickly took a sip from his glass and set it down. He was torn between listening to Kaufmann and trying surreptitiously to watch Biggles. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Biggles nonchalantly strolled to a table, sat down and lit a cigarette. The bartender came over. Biggles ordered a beer in Spanish. Algy watched as Biggles surveyed the room. Not by a flicker of an eyelid did he indicate that he recognized Algy and Algy could only wonder what kind of game Biggles was playing. No one appeared to take any notice of him although Kaufmann did, in fact, glance over, but then returned to resume his conversation with Algy. It couldn't be long, Algy thought, in a fever of apprehension, before someone recognized him as the man in the photo they were all carrying around. For a few moments Algy sat with his companions, barely listening to the conversation around him, and then, unable to stand the tension any longer, he put down his drink, excused himself and went to the rear of the building where the lavatories were. He checked to make sure he was alone and a few seconds later he was joined by Biggles.

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" He hissed at Biggles, anxiety making him angry. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"A good commander should know the type of places his second-in-command frequents" bantered Biggles, lightly. "Really, Algy, old son, there's no need to fly into a flap."

"No need-?" Algy, apparently bereft of speech, could only goggle at Biggles for a few seconds before recovering. "Do you realise who they are?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the cafe. "Haven't you seen Ginger?"

"Yes, I do and yes I have" Biggles replied, somewhat cryptically. "I do have my reasons but this is not the time and place to go into them. What you DO need to know is that you will find me at the Casa des Flores about midnight tonight. What I want you to do now is simple. I want you to shop me to Kaufmann."

"Now I know you've lost it" Algy retorted. "Biggles for god's sake-" he broke off as Biggles gripped his arm tightly. "Algy, listen. I need to find von Stahlein and this is the only way I know how to do it. Just tell Kaufmann you think you've seen me and follow on from there. Offer to follow me or something, Just make sure I don't get caught tonight. I'll explain later." And with that, he turned to go back into the cafe.

"But-" Algy, speechless, could only splutter. Biggles clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man" he said, cheerfully. "Don't forget, I'll see you at the Casa des Flores at midnight." He turned to go. "Oh, by the way, are any of you armed?" And without waiting for a reply, he strolled back into the cafe. Algy fuming, could only follow. He went and sat down again and Biggles took his drink and sat down at a table near the entrance, his back to the wall, facing the room.

A few minutes later, Algy looked at Biggles. He glanced sideways at Kaufmann, who was talking to his two friends. He reached into his jacket and removed from his inside breast pocket the picture of Biggles he had been given. Biggles was wearing the uniform of the International Squadron which placed him in Finland, which made the photo about ten years old. It was slightly grainy but that didn't matter. The man sitting in front of him was clearly the man in the photo. He took a deep breath and nudged Kaufmann with his elbow.

Kauffman looked at Algy. "What is it?"

Algy showed him the photo and nodded at Biggles. "That man over there. Don't you think he looks like this man?"


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT - A Tense Time for Biggles**

Biggles drank his beer, glancing occasionally in the direction of Algy's table. He watched the byplay between Algy and Kauffman. The photograph was passed to the other two men sitting at the table. A whispered conversation took place with one or two glances in his direction. Suddenly one of the men downed his drink, stood up and went over to the bar. He said something to the barman , who nodded, lifted the counter flap, and ushered him into a back room.

"Gone to make a phone call" he thought, "time I was moving." He attracted the barman's attention and paid his shot. He got up and as he went towards the door he cast a swift glance at Algy's table. Algy looked up briefly but otherwise ignored him.

He stepped outside and, walking a little way to a small public garden opposite the cafe, sat down on a bench half-hidden by an oleander bush and lit a cigarette. It was now twilight and would be dark soon. He was well aware that he had taken a tremendous risk in entering the cafe but Bertie's plight made it imperative that he find von Stahlein's headquarters and the best way to do that, he reckoned, was to force the Prussian's hand. It might even cause him to move the deadline forwards. Algy's cover had nearly been blown today so the sooner this was wrapped up the better.

Biggles stood up. From here he could still see the door of the cafe. He saw Algy come out and, after a brief glance round, start to walk briskly down the road. For a fleeting second they had made eye contact before Algy strode on. Biggles gave him two minutes and was just about to step out of the gardens, when two things happened in quick succession. Two cars screeched to a halt outside the café. One, a Chrysler, the other a police car. Two men emerged from the Chrysler, one tall, slim and with an aristocratic bearing, the other, shorter and thickset. Four policemen climbed out of the second car and von Stahlein immediately ordered them to follow him into the cafe.

Biggles was about to retreat into the shadows of the oleander bush when a man appeared just behind him and spoke. "Una luz, señor, por favor" and a cigarette was moved into his line of vision. Biggles turned around, his lighter in his hand. The man put his cigarette to his lips and and leant in towards the flame. He raised his eyes to Biggles' face.

The years had not been kind to him, his skin blotched with the effects of too much rich living, his face fatter and hair now grey, but Biggles had no problem in recognizing the face of someone he had last seen in Palestine, someone he thought long dead, Leopold Brunow.

That Brunow recognized him straight away, Biggles was aware, by the startled look that leapt into his eyes and the sudden raising of his eyebrows. As quick as a flash, Biggles' fist flew out, hitting Brunow in the stomach. He followed this with a vicious uppercut which propelled Brunow into the oleander bush. Unfortunately, at that precise moment, the cafe door opened and a policeman came out onto the pavement.

Without waiting for anything else, Biggles turned and ran across the small garden and headed for the gate on the other side. He heard a shout behind him and a quick glance revealed the policeman leaping over a small flowerbed, his drawn weapon in his hand. He paused and took a quick shot at Biggles, but missed and Biggles' was able to shoot through the gate and turn towards the main thoroughfare.

He carried on running, zig-zagging to avoid the bullets he knew would follow. Spying an alley to his right he shot down it and nearly fell over a rubbish bin. He did, in fact, knock it over, making an alarming amount of noise but he regained his balance and ran on. He turned left into yet another alley which ran between the backs of two rows of houses. The ground was uneven, the cobblestones either wet and slimy with the remains of rotting vegetables or crunching underfoot where he trod on broken glass and Biggles nearly went headlong once or twice. A mangy dog, on the end of a rope, ran out and barked at him half-heartedly and then turned it's attention to his pursuer when Biggles had run out of his range.

A fusillade of shots whistled past his ear and he put on a spurt. He could see the end of the alley up ahead and redoubled his efforts but to his dismay a car pulled up to a stop, effectually blocking his exit.

To turn back would be fatal, so Biggles carried on, realising he'd have a better chance of escape in the broader thoroughfare ahead, but as he approached, wondering if there was enough room to squeeze round the vehicle without being shot by its occupant or the policeman currently only a hundred yards behind, the rear door opened and a figure leaned towards him.

"Car for a lift?" said a voice, in English.

Biggles needed no second invitation. He dived into the car, which shot off even before he had had time to get his legs fully in. He straightened up, slammed the car door and looked at Algy.

Before he could say a word however, Algy shook his head and shot a warning glance at the driver. Biggles realized they were in a taxi so he merely nodded, took out his cigarette case and groped in his pocket for his lighter. With a 'tch' of disgust he realized he must have dropped it in his fight with Brunow.

Algy offered his lighter and they sat smoking, in silence, until the taxi stopped in a small square at what Biggles assumed was the other side of the city, judging by the distance they had travelled. They got out and Algy paid the bill, giving a very generous tip and turned to Biggles. "Dinner," he said firmly, leading him to a small establishment down yet another small, but much cleaner alley. "You owe me. Unless you have to meet Ginger?"

Biggles shook his head. "No," he answered, sitting down at the table the waiter indicated. "I'll see him back at the hotel."

Over dinner, in answer to a question from Biggles, Algy told him how he had managed to put in a timely appearance.

"There's no mystery about it. I saw the cars arrive. Mercifully, I was across the street and as it was dusk von Stahlein didn't even see me. I waited to see what happened in case you needed help but all I really knew was that a policeman was yelling and taking a potshot at someone. I assumed it was you and was just making my way towards the gardens when I spotted you coming out. I was just wondering whether I needed to take a hand when you shot down that alley. I knew roughly where you 'd come out." He grimaced. "I had to go down there once to avoid Brunow, so I simply flagged a passing taxi and waited for you to pop out the other end."

Biggles then told Algy of his encounter with Brunow. He leaned back in his chair. "I admit to wanting to shake them up a bit and I thought that was the best way to do it. But I hadn't bargained on coming face to face with Brunow like that. At least now I've given von Stahlein something to think about."

"He already had something to think about," Algy replied tartly. "You're not forgetting he's got Bertie?"

A flush crossed Biggles' face. "Sorry," Algy apologised. "It's just that, well, I should have stopped him."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE- Bertie Makes a Discovery**

When Bertie had got up to confront von Stahlein, he really did not think there would be any danger. He was confident of his ability to outwit the Prussian, so it was with some consternation he eyed the two new arrivals. There was no way out, however, and when he was frogmarched away his only consolation was that Algy had disappeared.

He was placed in the back seat of the car, von Stahlein sitting bedside him, covering him with his automatic. Bertie was disinclined for conversation and for the whole of the journey looked out of the window, trying to ascertain the direction in which he was going, but as he was not very familiar with Buenos Aires, and the colourful frontages of the shops and houses seemed to be pretty much the same to him, he soon gave it up as a bad job.

After what seemed a long time, but could only in fact have been no more than half-an-hour, the car pulled up outside an old warehouse in what was clearly a disused area of the city. Part of the warehouse was dilapidated, half of the roof had fallen in, the interior open to the elements. Window frames were rotted, glass panes broken.

Bertie was taken to the better part of the warehouse where the windows were boarded up and a brand new solid door was in place. At a word from von Stahlein one of his henchmen unlocked the padlock and Bertie was taken inside. After his eyes were used to the gloom, Bertie could see two huge crates sitting in the middle of the floor. An address was stenciled on it but before he had time to read it he was ushered towards the back and into a tiny room which had at one point been an office. He was pushed inside and a few seconds later Bertie heard the snick of a bolt being drawn.

He looked around. It was dim, what little light there was coming from a small, dirty, glass pane above the door. He tried the light switch and was relieved when the little room flooded with light. There was a chair and a desk and a battered filing cabinet. That was all. A quick look round revealed there was apparently no way out but he'd investigate that later, if he was left alone. He sat down in the chair to ponder his predicament,

A few minutes later the door was opened and von Stahlein came in.

"I regret I must leave you so soon after our meeting, Lord Lissie, but I have things to attend to. I don't suppose you would care to share with me the real reason for your presence here?"

"Here?" Bertie looked around the small office, surprised. "You brought me here, remember? You must be getting too old for this type of work, von Stahlein. " Bertie took out his eyeglass and began polishing it vigorously with his handkerchief. "The old grey matter is failing you, old boy." He sighed. "I suppose it comes to us all in the end. I remember an old great-aunt of mine. She-"

"Lord Lissie," von Stahlein interrupted. "I do not wish to know about your - er, aged relatives. What I wish to know is - why are you here, in Buenos Aires and where is Bigglesworth?"

"Now there you go again," Bertie raised his eyeglass and stared at von Stahlein. "forgetting what you've already been told. I'm here for the Tango. As for Biggles, I can truthfully say I have absolutely no idea where he is."

"At this moment in time, I don't suppose you do," Von Stahlein retorted drily, with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice. "but I really cannot stand here bandying words with you. I will return later." He spun on his heel, the door closed behind him, the bolt shot home and Bertie was left alone again.

As soon as von Stahlein had gone Bertie dragged the desk over to the door and, standing on it peered out through the murky glass. But all he could see was von Stahlein and his two henchmen leave by the door they had entered.

Bertie spent the best part of an hour looking around his tiny prison, but he could see no way out without the use of tools which he did not have. The office was built of brick and looking at it, Bertie came to the conclusion that it had been used as some sort of storeroom before it became an office. The absence of windows seemed to bear this out. He was just wondering whether he was being left to starve when he heard the sound of voicesThe next moment the bolt rattled and the door opened. Von Stahlein's henchmen came in, both armed, one of them also carrying a tray. The tray was placed on the desk, the men withdrew and the door closed and bolted.

He ate his meal with relish, for it had been a long time since breakfast. Feeling a lot better, he pushed his coffee away and once more set his mind to escape. The window above the door was much too small for him to wriggle through and he was contemplating whether he dare rush the men when they came back for the tray when there was a commotion outside. He immediately dragged the desk in front of the door again and stood up on it. Now there was something to see, Bertie gave the dirty glass a rub and made a pleasing discovery. Hidden by cobwebs there was a small catch. Bertie struggled with it and reluctantly it gave way. The window opened a mere crack but the difference was remarkable. He could now hear every word of what was being said.

There were five men now. Von Stahlein, his two henchmen and two other men whom Bertie had never seen before. They stood beside the crates. One man was holding a crowbar. "Open it" ordered von Stahlein with a nod at the nearest crate.

Two minutes later, the lid of the crate was lying on the floor. Von Stahlein looked into the crate, leant in and took something out. Bertie was unable to see what it was, but evidently, von Stahlein was not pleased.

Bertie listened to the conversation with increased interest. From what he was able to gather, this was part of the Nazi hoard ready to be flown out. It had, however, been packed without thought for air transport. Bertie was able to identify the two additional men as Kaufmann and Brunow. The latter he looked at with interest. Biggles may well have been mistaken for him all those years ago, but that could hardly be the case now. Brunow had obviously been living a life of dissipation all these years and it showed. The other, Kauffman, was obviously Algy's contact.

Von Stahlein came to a decision. "We have less than three days to go," he said icily. "Kaufmann, I have no time now to waste. Tell me, does Jameson have red hair?"

"No, but I do not see-"

"A precaution on my part. Bigglesworth has given me much trouble in the past. I merely wished to establish that Jameson is not one of his men. I hold Lissie and if the pilot does not have red hair, it is not Hebblethwaite. I am a busy man and must be elsewhere tomorrow. Get Jameson. You know the terms. And get this sorted."

Brunow spoke. "But Bigglesworth is no threat. With Lacey dead he-"

"Bigglesworth is as much a threat now as he was years ago," von Stahlein interrupted. "He made fools of us both then and is capable of doing so now. Perhaps more so, for he now has an excellent team behind him. Do not underestimate him and do not believe what you may have read in the papers. If he is seen, I want him. " he spoke to Kaufmann again. "Pass the word around to those on the list. There will be a final meeting tomorrow night of all concerned at the Casa des Flores on the Avenue Brasil at eighteen hundred hours."

As it was obvious the conversation had finished, Bertie hurriedly climbed down from his desk and dragged it back into position. A few seconds later, the door opened and the same two men came in, followed by von Stahlein. He addressed Bertie directly.

"I deeply regret, Lord Lissie, that you will have to remain here for the time being. I have things to attend to but I shall be calling upon you again upon my return."

Bertie walked round to the chair, sat on it and tilting it back a little, put his feet up on the desk. He took out his eyeglass, and started to polish it, all the while looking at von Stahlein.

"Of course you're welcome to drop by any time old boy. Only I don't know if I'll be in. I'm rather busy myself, too, you know."

"Yes, I know. Tango lessons," von Stahlein sneered as he left the room.

When he was left alone, Bertie once more looked around his prison. He inspected all the drawers in the desk and filing cabinet, removing each one. He turned the desk upside down. He move the filing cabinet. There was nothing. Sighing, and thoroughly bored with his incarceration, Bertie attempted to get some sleep.

He was awakened a few hours later by voices in the warehouse. A bright light was shining through the window, indicating that a light was on outside. He stood on the desk again and peered out. There were two men standing beside the crates. One of them was Kaufmann, the other, Algy.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN -A Rescue by Moonlight**

It took Bertie a few seconds to recover from his surprise by which time he realised Algy's presence in the warehouse was perfectly natural. He listened for a few moments to Kaufmann discussing with Algy the repackaging of the contents of the crates for air transport.

Feeling it was time that Algy knew where he was, he hammered on the window. "Hi, you there. What's happening? Let me out, you bounder." For good measure he hammered on the window again. He saw Algy look up, startled, and Kaufmann remove his gun from his pocket and come over.

He scrambled off the desk and dragged it aside. By the time the door opened he was sitting on it, arms crossed.

"About bally time, " he complained. "How much longer am I going to be kept here?" He looked at Kaufmann. "I recognize you. You were here earlier with that rascal, von Stahlein. And if you're with him," he turned to Algy, "you're as bad as the rest of 'em."

Algy, feeling that something was required of him, ignored Bertie and turned to Kaufmann. "Who's this," he demanded.

"The Englishman I told you about. One of Bigglesworth's men."

"Is that so? I thought you said he'd been arrested."

"He is in custody, isn't he? Don't quibble, Jameson. Von Stanlein will take care of him." He turned to Bertie. "It is no use. No one is going to come. " He waved his automatic in Bertie's direction. "The sooner you-" he was interrupted by Algy, who had gripped his arm.

"Hark, did you hear that? There's someone outside."

Kaufmann cocked his head. "I hear nothing."

"And if there is someone? What will you tell von Stanlein if he comes and finds those crates gone? I don't know him but I'm willing to bet he won't be too pleased and you'll get the blame. You've got a gun, you'd better check. I'll make sure this one doesn't get away."

Reluctantly Kaufmann nodded and went out.

Algy turned to Bertie. "Listen, we've only got a couple of minutes. Are you all right?"

Bertie nodded. "For now, old boy. What about you?"

"Kaufmann's offered me the job. That's why I'm here. He was waiting for me tonight when I got back to my hotel. I'd just come from meeting with Biggles. There's no time to tell you everything but he's stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest. If you're sure you'll be okay for a couple of hours, I'll let him know where you are and he'll get you out."

"Okay, old boy, but watch your step. They're a nasty bunch of blighters."

"Don't worry, I will. I'm going to lock you in now, but Biggles will think of something. So long." And Algy turned and walked out, bolting the door behind him. It went against the grain to leave Bertie, but as he wasn't in immediate danger Algy felt safe in not blowing his cover by rescuing Bertie there and then.

He was sitting on an old box by the warehouse door smoking when Kaufmann returned, irritated at what he saw as a fool's errand.

"You are getting jumpy," he complained. "There was no one there. Did you have any trouble?"

Algy stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. "What? Him?" he exclaimed dismissively. "I think it's time we went. I need my beauty sleep."

Algy paid more attention to where he was on the way back to his hotel so he could find the warehouse again. It was in a particularly seedy part of the city but his trained eye picked out and noted several useful landmarks along the way.

To his intense annoyment, Kaufmann had insisted on escorting him back to his hotel, telling him he would pick him up the next morning so he could return to the warehouse to supervise the re-packaging of the crates. Algy got the impression that he would not now be let out of sight. He was sure of it when the taxi stopped and he got out. He spotted, across the road, a man leaning against a lamppost. Algy sighed. It looked like he was under surveillance. Even at this this stage, von Stahlein was not taking any chances. That meant he would have to use the fire esccape.

Like the good ex-soldier he was, Algy had already marked out a line of escape, so going up to his room for form's sake, he sat on the bed, had a cigarette and then went out again into the corridor, after checking it thoroughly. From there, it was a short step to the fire escape at the end. Climbing out of the window, he went down the rather rickety structure into the hotel's rear yard. He was over the wall in a second and walked swiftly through the dark alley at the rear of the hotel, with only the moonlight showing him the way.

Reaching the main thoroughfare at the end, he turned left and walked swiftly down it and then turned right. Here, he paused and flagged down a taxi. He gave the name of a street not far from the Casa del Flores and sat down thankfully in the back seat. He had not given a thought as to how he was to gain entrance to Biggles' room at that time of night but now he exercised his mind on the subject. By the time he had reached his destination he had the makings of a plan.

He had the taxi drop him around the corner and he hurried along to Biggles' hotel, checking to make sure he was not being followed. He paused outside, looking up at the structure as if he hoped Biggles was hanging out of one of the windows.

The Casa del Flores was a bitter disappointment to anyone who had expected, and with good reason, to see a building bedecked with flowers. It was, but not the fresh, bright, South American blooms that gave off a heavy scent. At one time, it must have been a handsome building, it's balconies and pillars reminiscent of the old colonial style house which was rapidly going out of fashion in modern Argentina. The paint was chipped and peeling, the balconies crumbling, bricks missing and overrun with ivy. But what gave the hotel it's name were the flowers. Hundreds of them, all artificial. These were attached to the ivy which festooned the outside walls. They occupied the balconies and trailed down to brush against the heads of passers-by. They were old and faded with the sun, the moonlight draining what little colour remained.

Algy had been inside the building once, for a small cafe occupied most of the ground floor and he had needed to use a phone. He knew the inside was no better. Plastic flowers were everywhere, all gathering dust and dead insects. Whatever gave the proprietor reason to think they would enhance his establishment, no one knew. Any tourist foolish enough to book himself in there, soon booked himself out again and it was shunned by all but the most hardy of locals. It was spoken of disparagingly within the circle he now moved and Algy had sent Ginger there for no other reason than that it was the safest place he could think of, where they were the least likely to be found.

Now he began to put his plan into operation. At that time of night, or, rather, early morning, the door was locked and bolted naturally enough, so he hammered on the door as hard as he could. Eventually, a light appeared in one of he upstairs rooms and a head was pushed out of the window.

"Qué es ? Qué deseas ?" _(What is it? What do you want?)_

Algy knew very little Spanish but he could guess what was being said. By using signs, indicating sleep and holding up a bundle of notes he was able to convince the proprietor that he needed a bed for the night. There was some muttering, which Algy suspected was cursing, but eventually the head disappeared. Algy waited in a fever of impatience, wondering if he was going to be let in after all. Shortly afterwards, there was the sound of several bolts being drawn back and locks being turned.

He was given room number thirteen and as the proprietor bad-temperedly pushed the registration book towards him Algy was able to see that Biggles and Ginger were occupying only one room, number seven. He handed over the required amount of notes, took the key and followed his host up two flights of stairs to the second floor. They paused outside number thirteen where the proprietor, evidently considering he'd done enough, left him and shuffled off up a further flight of stairs to his own quarters.

Algy opened his bedroom door and went in. He went straight over to the window and looked out. As he suspected, there was no way out that way so he wasted no more time and leaving his door unlocked, retraced his steps down the stairs as far as the first floor.

Creeping along the dark corridor, Algy peered at the doors, trying to ascertain which was number seven. He passed number three and went on. He reached number seven and paused, leaning forward to listen at the door. He jumped suddenly as the barrel of an automatic was thrust into the small of his back.

"Turn around," said a voice, in English.

"Biggles," Algy gasped in relief. "Do you have to creep up on me like that?"

The door to number seven was opened suddenly and Ginger stood there, automatic in his hand. Biggles bundled Algy unceremoniously into the room, thrusting the door shut behind him."What the heck are you doing here?" he grated, throwing his gun on the bed and reaching for his cigarettes. "Was it you making that infernal racket outside?"

"Yes, it was," Algy returned, sitting on Ginger's bed. "I needed to see you urgently. I've found Bertie."

Biggles paused in the act of lighting his cigarette. He looked at Algy keenly. "Where is he?"

"In an old warehouse where von Stahlein's stashed the Nazi hoard." Algy then went on to tell Biggles everything that had transpired since he left the restaurant, describing the warehouse and Bertie's prison as well as he had remembered it.

"And you'll be able to find this place again?" Biggles asked when Algy had finished.

Algy looked pained. "Of course I will. I made particular note of any landmarks."

Biggles glanced at Ginger, who so far, apart from greeting Algy, had not uttered a word. "Seems like it's a simple case of smash and grab." he said. ""We'll shoot the lock, dash in, grab Bertie and dash out again. From what Algy tells us it should be that simple. What do you think, Ginger?"

"It'll make a bit of a racket, busting the lock like that," Ginger answered. "A crowbar would do the trick a bit quieter."

"Since a crowbar is the one thing I forgot to pack there's no sense in mentioning it," returned Biggles, with biting sarcasm.

"What about the car? There's a tyre lever in there somewhere, isn't there?"

"The very thing," exclaimed Biggles. He turned to Algy. "We hired a car at the airport."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Algy leapt up off the bed. "Let's go."

Half-an-hour later, with Biggles driving, they were on their way to the warehouse, having left the hotel by a rear ground floor window, which they had left open for their return.

There was a somewhat heated discussion when Biggles had ordered Algy to stay in the car. "If it's like you say," Biggles had told him "then Ginger and I can find him. If Ginger and I are seen it doesn't matter. Once Bertie's disappearance has been discovered there will be nothing remarkable in that. You, on the other hand can't afford to be seen returning here at this time. If you want something to do, sit in the driver's seat ready for a quick getaway."

Biggles was rather glad it was a bright moonlit night as Algy directed him to the run-down area where the warehouse was. Here, there were no street lamps, only an occasional feeble light from the squalid, run-down, half-derelict buildings lining the pot-holed road, separated by noisome alleys which held unnamed horrors for any one unwary enough to venture down one. Life was cheap in Argentina.

They pulled up outside the warehouse. Biggles and Ginger got out, the engine still running. Algy climbed over to the driver's side, but slid down in the seat until he could only just see over the dash. He watched as Biggles and Ginger approached the door, saw Biggles nod and Ginger work on the lock. There was a sudden, grinding sound and then a metallic pop.

Ginger wrenched off the now ruined padlock and pulled open the door. It was very dark inside, apart from a faint glimmer of light at the far end, high up in the wall. Biggles ran across the warehouse floor shouting "Bertie" whilst Ginger remained by the door, his automatic in his hand.

Bertie's cut-glass voice answered. "Here, old boy. At the back. There's a bolt on the door."

Biggles was over in a trice, throwing the bolt back and opening the door. "Come on," he urged Bertie and together they retraced his steps. Biggles paused for a moment, looking at the crates, but then moved on.

They moved over to the door and passed through it. Ginger grabbed the door and closed it putting the now useless padlock back in place. The whole thing had taken less than three minutes. Bertie climbed into the back of the car with Ginger and Biggles scrambled into the front seat beside Algy.

Algy put his foot down on the accelerator and shot off down the street. There was a collective sigh. It was not often an operation went off as simply as this one and and tensions had been running high. Biggles turned to Bertie.

"You okay?"

"Right as rain, old boy. Glad to be out of that bally place yes, by Jove. Gave me a bit of a start, old Algy turning up like that, though." He polished his eyeglass vigorously and looked out of the window. They were now in a better part of the city, the street lights casting a bright glow over the late-night revellers mingling outside the few cafés which were still open. "Where are we going now?"

"We're going to drop Algy off at his hotel and then on to ours. Algy thinks he's being followed so it won't do for him to be missing. He had to climb down the fire escape. Now there's only about forty-eight hours until he flies them out, they're getting jumpy."

"Oh, that reminds me," Bertie put his eyeglass back in and sat back in the seat. "I overheard dear Erich saying there's a final meeting tomorrow night at 6 o'clock. Well, today, now, I suppose."

"Did he say where? I'd like to be a fly on the wall at that particular event. It would give us all the gen, just in case Algy will be unable to get away, if I can be there and hear what they have to say."

"He did say, old boy, only it sounds pretty much like a private villa to me, so you'd have a spot of bother trying to get in and hide, if you see what I mean."

"I do," Biggles answered drily, "but why don't you tell me the name of the place and then we can find out what it is?"

"Oh, yes, of course, old bean. Absolutely. It's the Casa des Flores on the Avenue Brasil." Algy's sudden crack of laughter brought a pained look to Bertie's face. "What's so funny about that?" He complained as the others joined in.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - A Very Big Spanner in the Works**

After dropping Algy off two streets from his hotel Biggles drove on to the Castle des Flores. Ginger and Bertie got out. To their surprise Biggles remained in the driver's seat. "You two go and get some sleep. I've something to do. Bertie, use my bed. I'll kip in Algy 's room when I return."

Before either Ginger or Bertie could speak he drove off, leaving them with nothing more to do than creep back into the hotel. They discussed briefly Biggles' sudden latest action but as neither of them knew what he was up to they gave up.

"Quite frankly, I'm too tired to care just now." Ginger remarked, yawning widely. I'm going to get some kip." And suiting the action to the words, he settled down and went to sleep.

They were both awoken only a few hours later by Biggles banging on their door. "On your feet," he said briskly. "There's work to be done. Pack your gear, we're checking out."

"I jolly well hope we've got time for some grub, old boy," Bertie said plaintively. "I've had nothing to eat since yesterday afternoon."

"Sorry Bertie, but you'll have to eat on the hoof. I want you and Ginger to watch Algy's back. If it looks like he's in trouble yank him out. He should be at his hotel just now but he'll be returning to the warehouse shortly and that's when the fireworks start. "

When they were in the car driving towards Algy's hotel Ginger turned to Biggles. "Just what have you been up to?" he asked suspiciously.

Biggles lips twitched. "I've put a very big spanner in von Stahlein's works," he answered. "After I dropped you off I returned to the warehouse and had a good look in those crates. It's Nazi loot all right. And stuck to the inside of one of the lids was an envelope. Von Stahlein must have missed it, otherwise he would never have left it there. But with typical German efficiency it contained a list of who donated what to the cause of the Fourth Reich, complete with full details, lots of nice names and addresses. And it also contained a list of those artefacts destined to be passed on in the form of bribes to local officials. Big bribes for big officials to look the other way." He let out a big grin. "They won't be getting those bribes now."

""But how?" Ginger asked."You haven't moved it, have you?"

Biggles shot him a withering look. "Talk sense. Of course I haven't. I merely took the list to a certain gentleman of the Jewish persuasion and gave him the location of the warehouse. He assured me he knew people who would be only too glad to relocate those crates. By now, they, or more precisely, the contents will have disappeared."

Ginger and Bertie looked flummoxed. Biggles laughed. "Neat, isn't it? In addition to returning the treasure to it's rightful owners, we deprive von Stahlein of the means to pay off the local bigwigs. They're going to be none too pleased at that and life will be rather more difficult for some time. And, " He added with a flourish, "the men whose names were on that list, in Buenos Aires anyway, will all have had...er notification that their comfortable lives are now at an end."

"But who-" Ginger was still determined to get to the bottom of things.

" If you must know," Biggles said, exasperation creeping into his voice, "it's the owner of a restaurant Algy took me to last night. I can't think of anything more guaranteed to upset von Stahlein's plans. I couldn't have done it through official channels and who better to do it than the very people who have the biggest axe to grind? I was assured it would be done swiftly. They don't waste time asking questions and that suited me."

Bertie who had so far remained silent, now spoke."So what do you think will be dear Erich's next step, old boy?"

"I'm not sure," Biggles answered carefully. "If I'm any judge of human nature, certain individuals will want to remove themselves from the vicinity for the foreseeable future and quickly too. The Chief of Police was in line for a very nice back hander. Now that's not forthcoming he's not going to play ball. That will definitely have a bearing on von Stahlein's next move. "

Coming up to Algy's hotel Biggles drove past and parked further down the street. "Right," he said tersley. "I know Algy's still in there because the same guy who was watching the hotel last night is still there. I'll leave you the car. When Algy and Kauffman leave follow at a distance. When Kauffman discovers what has happened anything could happen but stick with Algy. I'm going to get a message to Raymond to stand by and then I'll go to the airport. If you have to pull Algy out go there and we'll decide then what to do next. Either way, though, one of you report back to me about 5 pm tonight. Clear?"

They both nodded. Biggles climbed out of the car and then stuck his head back in. "There's a cafe just across the road. I suggest one of you nips over and brings back some grub. You might not get another chance to eat. " And with that he strolled away, lighting a cigarette as he did so.

Bertie and Ginger, taking Biggles' advice grabbed something to eat and concentrated on keeping an eye on the hotel. But, after an hour, when no one had put in an appearance Bertie fidgeted in his seat. "You know, old boy, this is getting rather tiresome. Do you think old Algy's alright? Perhaps we should-" he was silenced by a nudge in the ribs from Ginger, who indicated with his head the arrival of Algy on the terrace.

They watched as Algy came out onto the street, looked up and down, looked at his watch, and after a final look around again, returned to the hotel terrace where he took a seat at a small table and beckoned to a waiter.

It was obvious to both Bertie and Ginger that whoever Algy was waiting for, was late as Algy began to look at his watch more and more often. Just as he'd finished his coffee and stood up, a car pulled up to the kerb. One man got out of the car, but seeing Algy start to walk towards him, got in again. As soon as the door closed on Algy the car pulled away.

Bertie leaned forward. "That's Brunow," he observed idly. "Okay, laddie, let's go." Ginger guided the car out into the traffic and nothing more was said for a while. About twenty minutes later, Ginger spoke. "We're not going to the warehouse, at any rate. This appears to be a residential suburb." Bertie said nothing. The car drove on.

Ginger had to hold back now as the traffic lessened. He followed his quarry into a street lined with houses on his left and stopped suddenly. The car in front was drawn up outside a set of double wrought-iron gates on the opposite side of the road. Bertie and Ginger watched as first Brunow then Algy, followed by Kauffman, alighted from the car and walked through the double gates which were then closed behind them by their driver. Ginger stretched in his seat. "I'm not too happy about this place, Bertie. Who does it belong to? Why have they brought Algy here?"

"I suppose it could belong to any one of them, old bean." He thought for a second, whilst mechanically polishing his eyeglass with his handkerchief. "Maybe they've discovered the empty warehouse and because of Biggles' little stunt they all want out and quick. This would be a perfect place for a pow-wow. Anonymous."

"In that case," Ginger said slowly as an unwelcome thought occurred to him, "Who would be at that meeting?" His eyes met Bertie's. He did not need to elaborate. The look on Bertie's face told him. The one man in the whole of South America Algy should be avoiding could be in that house right now.

Algy was thinking along the same lines as Bertie and Ginger, but he didn't see what he could do about it.

He had been concerned, but not really alarmed, when Kauffman didn't pick him up on time. He was surprised when he saw Brunow was with him, but didn't think anything of it. The first indication he had had that all was not going to plan was when he looked out of the window and saw they were not going to the warehouse.

"This isn't the way to the warehouse," he remarked, as casually as he could. "Or the airport, for that matter."

"There's been a change of plan," Kauffman said brusquely, but offered no further explanation. That was the first inkling Algy had had that he was being regarded in a different light: not exactly hostile but not with the open friendliness Kauffman had treated him to before. There was a tense atmosphere in the car, as though breath was being held, waiting for something to happen.

When they arrived at their destination Algy stepped out of the car and stood on the pavement looking around the quiet residential street. For the most part, he could see nothing of the houses as high walls ran alongside the pavement, interspersed here and there with sets of double gates, similar to the ones beside which he now stood, with the occasional single tall gates presumably for pedestrian access.

Flowering climbing plants ran riot over several of the walls but while some other properties seemed to have a cheerful air, this one bore signs of neglect. The paint was peeling, bindweed mingled with the colourful purple of the bougainvillaea and the gates bore signs of rust.

As he went through the gates and down an overgrown path, the sense of unease he had felt earlier increased. On either side, bushes and trees seemed to bear down on him. A drain cover set into the path was broken and choked with weeds. He looked up at the house, it wasn't very big but at one time it must have been magnificent. Now the walls were cracked, the paintwork old, peeling and dirty. The windows had wrought iron grilles, once white but now covered with streaks of rust. The steps up which he was led were broken too, and as the garden had overgrown trees and shrubs, the sun did not penetrate, giving the whole place a heavy atmosphere.

""This is my house," Brunow said simply, evidently oblivious to it's decay. "There's someone who's been wishing to meet you for some time. We believe you might be able to shed some light on some unwelcome developments." Opening the front door, he ushered Algy in.

Algy looked around him. Like the outside, the interior of the house was dusty and neglected. Cobwebs festooned the ornate chandelier and at the bottom f the marble stairs a huge plant stood, dying, brown leaves covering the tiled floor at the base of its pot. As if seeing it for the first time, Brunow touched the leaves with the toe of his shoe. "I've been away, visiting. But it doesn't matter. I'm not going to be here much longer." He walked down the hall, Kauffman indicating from behind him that Algy should follow.

The unease Algy had felt increased and he glanced around now with a sense of purpose, noting possible exits. He thought he knew what had caused the change in attitude towards him. Bertie's escape had been discovered and as the only outsider he was naturally suspect. If that were all he wouldn't have been concerned, confident in his ability to bluff his way out. But Brunow's statement about someone wanting to meet him had a sinister ring to it. There was nothing he could do, however. He knew Kauffman at least was armed and any fracas would be heard by others in the house. He wouldn't get far and if he was wrong and von Stahlein was not in the house he would have a hard time explaining his actions.

Brunow opened a door at the end of the hall and went in. Algy followed. A swift look round the room confirmed Algy's worst fears. Sitting in a chair, a long cigarette holder held between his fingers was the very last person Algy wanted to see, Biggles' arch-enemy, Erich von Stahlein.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE - Rapid Developments**

Biggles hadn't gone very far when a man coming out of a cafe bumped into him. Biggles automatically started to say sorry, but was silenced by a piece of paper thrust into his hand. The man walked off, saying nothing. Biggles looked back then glanced at the paper. 'Contact me. Urgent. R', he read. He strode on, more quickly now. Seeing a taxi he hailed it and directed it to the British Embassy.

Half-an-hour later he was speaking to the Air Commodore over an encrypted line. Raymond's first words startled him. "Pull out, Bigglesworth, now."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" was Biggles' automatic response followed a few seconds later by " Why? What's happened?"

"Orders from on high, Bigglesworth," came the terse response. "The operation is off. The Commissioner's just had a meeting with the Foreign Secretary. It appears the Israelis have the tabs on some of our targets and they don't want us getting in the way. The Israelis don't want a Fourth Reich any more than we do and they've managed to convince the Foreign Office they will take care of things over there. The Prime Minister, for whatever reasons unknown to us, has agreed. Everything's been cancelled, Bigglesworth, so get yourselves home."

"Only too pleased to, sir," Biggles replied, preparing to put the receiver down. "We'll be home as soon as we can collect Lacey."

"One more thing," The Air Commodore spoke sharply. "I've had a phone call from Crisp. Someone has been asking searching questions at the Aero Club about Lacey. And that's not all. Gaskin reports that someone is prying into reports of his death. We made things as watertight as we could but..." he left the sentence unfinished.

"Got to go, sir," Biggles said hurriedly and slammed down the receiver.

"You'll do nothing," von Stahlein chipped in. "Unfortunately, we still need him - for the present." He looked at Algy. "Very well, Lacey. I'll accept that you know nothing about the crates. Instead, tell me why you - or rather why the British Government sent you."

Algy shrugged. "I expect you can work that out for yourself."

Von Stahlein nodded. "Yes, I believe I can. Tell me, did you really expect to pull it off?"

"Until you came on the scene, yes," Algy replied frankly. "We had no idea you were mixed up in it until Kaufmann told me you were here."

"And where were you going to fly us to?"

"You don't really expect me to tell, you do you? Do you mind if I sit down? I'm getting tired of standing."

Von Stahlein indicated a chair. "By all means. You see, Lacey, we now have a conundrum. This morning I learned that not only had Lissie escaped, but the contents of the crates were missing, some of which were intended to help oil the wheels of our operations here. In addition, several people have received unsettling communications which makes it imperative that they leave Buenos Aires immediately. With Bigglesworth on the scene, I naturally assumed he was the instigator of our misfortunes."

Algy shrugged. Von Stahlein carried on. "Of course, I am right. The question is whether we can salvage something from this debacle."

Algy shrugged again. "Well, if you will leave your valuables lying around in a deserted warehouse protected by only one padlock, what can you expect? I'm surprised it didn't disappear before now."

Von Stahlein flushed. "Believe me, that was not my idea. There are certain...influences which I have been unable to overcome. But delighted as I am to learn your demise was ...ah, only temporary, I do not have the time to renew our acquaintance. It would be useless, of course, to expect you to tell me where to find Bigglesworth? I thought so," he added as Algy's lips compressed into a thin line. "Very well." He turned to Kauffman and Bergman. "Lock him in the cellar. Brunow, I have a job for you."

When Algy had been led away von Stahlein took out his notebook. He scribbled two notes and tore them out. "Do you have any envelopes?" He asked Brunow.

"I think so," Brunow replied dubiously and rummaged in a drawer in a sideboard. He eventually produced a bundle of dog-eared and crumpled brown envelopes which he handed over.

Von Stahlein frowned at the state of them, but selected two of the better ones and placed one note in each. He then sealed them, turned them over and wrote an inscription on the front of each.

"We need to find Bigglesworth. He's the key to all this. I want you to take these notes for him. Leave one at Lacey's hotel and one at the airport. Give it to the manager. Then go to the Black Avenger and fetch Hans and Jurgen and bring them back with you. Pass the word around that I want Bigglesworth brought here if he is seen. Take Bergman with you," he added as that man re-entered the room.

"Bigglesworth won't be such a fool as to come here for the asking," Kauffman surmised as he followed Bergman in. "If he has any sense, he will go while the going is good."

"No, not while I hold Lacey. He will come, I am sure of it. Now, You two, go and remember – I want Bigglesworth alive."

The first thing Biggles did on leaving the embassy was hire a car. As soon as the car was in his possession he drove at speed to to Algy's hotel, although without any real hope of finding him there. He thought there was a possibility he might find a clue as to where Algy might be so, by means of a hefty tip, he persuaded the chambermaid to let him into Algy's room and went through his things methodically. He found nothing that would help him. Working quickly, he then packed Algy's belongings and went back down to reception where he paid the bill. He looked at his watch. It was less than two hours since he'd left the others to keep an eye on Algy. In lieu of no other leads to go on, he decided to visit the warehouse and then, if no one was there, to carry on to the airport. After that, well, that would depend on what he found there.

He could see no one around the warehouse, a quick cautious peek revealing it to be empty save for the empty packing crates left in the middle of the floor.

He went back to his car and made his way to the airport.

He went straight to the hangar where his plane was housed. There was no one. He sat for a few minutes on an old oil drum outside the hangar smoking a cigarette and pondered his next move. It was perfectly possible that all was still well and that von Stahlein, upon being informed of the latest developments had decided to cut his losses and leave to save his own skin, as he had done on numerous occasions before. Without the wherewithal to bribe local officials his position would now be tenuous. Furthermore, Kauffman and his cronies would be anxious to leave Buenos Aires as soon as they could so maybe Algy was even now being fully briefed on his role in the exodus. But where? That was the fly in the ointment. He had no means of knowing. He bitterly wished now he'd stayed with Ginger and Bertie, but not being one to waste time on pointless regrets he threw that thought away along with his cigarette stub and stood up, still undecided on his course of action.

There was a shout and Biggles saw the airport manager hurrying towards him.

"A letter for you, señor, it was brought in not fifteen minutes ago."

Biggles thanked the man and looked at the salutation on the envelope, which consisted of one word. 'Bigglesworth'. He recognized the neat handwriting. It was von Stahlein's. Swiftly he tore open the envelope

'You took something of mine. I now have something of yours. If you wish to see Lacey alive again, come to this address," he read. Below that was written an address which was unknown to him. He looked up at the retreating back of the manager and ran after him.

"Hi," he shouted, to get his attention. " Who delivered this?"

The manager stopped and turned. "There were two of them, Señor. They said they were looking for you and left this in case you came here. I do not know their names."

Biggles thanked him and returned to his oil drum and lit another cigarette. This changed matters. The 'something' was obviously Algy. He would go, of course, no question, von Stahlein would know that. What did puzzle him was that there was no mention made of either Ginger or Bertie. Did von Stahlein have them too? He'd sent them to watch Algy's back but they'd obviously failed. If they were not with him then where were they? Were they still alive?

Ginger and Bertie were still very much alive. They watched as Algy went through the double gates. The driver of the car returned to his seat and took out a newspaper, obviously with the intention of settling down until he was needed again.

Nothing was said for perhaps a minute or two as both men surveyed the surrounding area. "I don't like this, Bertie. Algy could be alright but - " he didn't finish his sentence, he didn't need to; Bertie understood. He nodded at the car with the driver. "If we're going in, old boy, he's going to be a bit of a bother."

"Not if we get to him first," Ginger said pointedly. "I'm not going to be too fussy. We can gag him and stuff him in the boot." He suddenly made up his mind. "Stay here. I'm just going to do a quick recce. I'll be back in a tic." Before Bertie could protest, Ginger was out of the car and strolling down the street as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Bertie watched him disappear round the corner at the end of the row of houses, but to his great relief, saw him come back a few moments later.

"Here, I say, young-fella-me-lad, don't do that again. I couldn't have dealt with that swaggering bunch of - hullo, looks like they're coming out," he added as one of the double gates leading to the property was opened.

They both slid down in their seats. They heard the clanging of the gate, presumably by it being slammed by someone who had just gone through it. Ginger raised his head just enough to be able to see what was going on. A swift glance was all he needed and he slid back down again. A minute later, they heard the sound of the car engine being started and the car driving off.

They sat up again and Bertie looked at Ginger. "No Algy," he told Bertie. "Two men, onec of them was Brunow. But at least, if we include the driver, that's three of them less to deal with anyway. Just now I had a quick look to see if there was a way in around the back. There wasn't. Looks like the only way in is through those gates."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bertie asked practically, climbing out of the car.

They walked over to the double gates and peered through them, but the garden was overgrown and apart from the path leading to the house they could make out very little. Ginger made a face at Bertie, who, obviously understanding, nodded. Ginger opened the right-hand gate slowly and carefully. It swung open, but to their surprise, did not squeak. Passing through they closed the gate behind them and took a step along the path to where they could get sight of the house.

They saw the same signs of neglect that Algy had noticed. They stood looking at the house for a moment taking in every detail of the protected windows and then Ginger touched Bertie on the arm. "We'll go round the back, ten to one no-one goes around there."

He was right. It appeared that it had been years since anyone had wandered around the side of the house. Bertie made a joke about needing a tribe of machete-wielding natives as he pushed through the bushes and tangled undergrowth but they reached the back of the house with little trouble and surveyed it with dismay.

There was a patio with steps leading up to it, but this, like the rest of the house, was dilapidated with cracked tiles and a set of very rickety garden furniture set in the middle, covered in dead leaves and cobwebs. A huge spider made Ginger shudder. All the upstairs windows were shuttered, the paint faded and peeling. The downstairs windows had metal grilles and, like the ones at the front, they had once been white but were now streaked with rust. The patio doors, which Ginger paid the most attention to, were protected with full length wooden shutters. In short, as Ginger remarked pithily to Bertie, there was no way in.

"Looks like the front door then, laddie," Bertie murmured. He drew his automatic.

Ginger did the same and together made their way back to the front of the house.

Cautiously, they made their way up the broken steps to the shaded porch. The door was solid wood, with a small, thick yellow glassed window set into it. Ginger placed his hand on the black wrought-iron handle and pressed down. Very slowly he opened the door and put his head around it.

The interior was dim and dusty. Ginger stood still, for ten seconds, listening, before stepping inside. He was swiftly followed by Bertie. There were several doors leading off the hall. One at the end if the hall was slightly open and he could hear the low murmur of voices. As he stood there, he heard a sound coming from one of the closed doors, the one under the stairs. It was the sound of someone banging on it with his fists, and even as Ginger, startled, made a move towards it, two things happened simultaneously.

A man walked through the door at the end of the hall and a voice came from behind the door to accompany the banging.

"Hey, von Stahlein! You still there? What about a light?" the voice cried. It was Algy.

Ginger's automatic came up and pointed it at the man. "Don't move, if you know what's good for you," he snarled. "Bertie, let Algy out, will you?"

Even as he spoke, another man joined the first. It was von Stahlein. His hand went to his pocket but Ginger moved his automatic a trifle. "Don't try it," he warned.

"Ah, I wondered how long it would be before you put in an appearance," von Stahlein drawled.

Ginger said nothing. Behind him he could hear Bertie sliding the cellar door bolts back and a wild-eyed Algy tumbled out. He was filthy, covered in coal dust and cobwebs, the result, they found out later, of blundering about in the unlit cellar. His hands and knees were the worst, for he had to virtually crawl up the stairs in the dark in order to get to the door, without the risk of falling back down.

Ginger waved his automatic at von Stahlein and his companion. "Down there," he indicated to the dark stairs. "I wouldn't try anything," he added as von Stahlein hesitated. "You know I won't hesitate to shoot, and Bertie, as you know, certainly won't miss." As each man passed him Ginger removed their weapons and passed them to Algy.

The men stood at the top of the cellar steps. Algy stepped up, waving von Stahlein's own automatic at him. "Down you go," he told them cheerfully. "I'd be careful where you put your feet though. I may have disturbed some local wildlife."

As they reluctantly made their way down the stairs he made a hissing sound which made Kauffman jump.

Ginger slammed the door shut and shot the bolts across.

"Let's get out of here," he requested shortly. "Biggles will be waiting for us at the airport."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - HOT WORK

Biggles went over to the Airport Manager's office. The manager wasn't there but one of the clerks was able to produce a dog-eared street map on which he marked the address Biggles had asked directions for. He had also marked the best route to get there.

As Biggles left the office a plane was landing, and he automatically looked it over. He recognized it as an Ilyushin Il-12, a Soviet twin engine monoplane, designed initially as a cargo aircraft, but later modified for civilian use. Engine and structural problems had blighted its first few years of life and although these had been resolved a series of crashes had given it a bad reputation. His lips twitched, for if, as he suspected, this was the plane Algy was to have flown, he could well imagine that the air would have turned blue when he found out.

Only two men, presumably the pilots, got out and as they wandered over to the airport building an idea popped into his head and he wandered over to it, ostensibly merely as an idle observer. Five minutes later he returned to his hangar, confident the plane wouldn't be going anywhere for the next few days.

Biggles next unloaded Algy's bags into the Halifax and gave it one last check. As per his usual practice the tanks had been topped up on arrival. He had no intention of having an avoidable last minute hitch.

He sat in cockpit for two minutes studying the map he had been given but then climbed into the car and drove as fast as he dared to the address he had been given. The map lay on the seat beside him, the address scribbled on the top. He still had to stop the car twice to check his bearings as the address was in the suburbs in a part of Buenos Aires he had never been before.

He slowed down as he approached his destination and parked in the next street. He approached the house on foot with caution as he had no idea how many men von Stahlein would have at his disposal. His only interest was in releasing Algy, but he wanted to do it with the minimum of fuss if he possibly could.

He didn't think ringing the bell would be the best option so he had a good look round. First, he surveyed the front, and then moved round to the back, unconsciously following Ginger and Bertie's movements. He did notice the passage forced through the bushes and increased his caution as he approached the rear. There he came to the same conclusion as Ginger and Bertie and retraced his steps.

He could hear banging from inside as he approached the front door. There was some shouting in a language which he recognized as German. He listened carefully for a minute and as soon as he understood that the shouting was an urgent request to be let out of somewhere he slowly opened the door and walked in.

The shouting ceased as low, clipped tones interceded. A whimsical smile crossed Biggles' face as he recognized the voice of Erich von Stahlein.

He tiptoed across the floor past the cellar door and slowly and carefully checked that there were no other occupants downstairs. He then made his way upstairs, checking through all the rooms to make absolutely sure. Only one room showed signs of occupation and a suitcase, thrown carelessly on the floor, revealed the owner of the house. The label bore a name, written boldly across its surface. L. Brunow. Biggles' lips curled in distaste. He had an old score to settle with him, although that might have to wait.

He went downstairs again and approached the cellar door. There was now silence and Biggles guessed that von Stahlein had managed to convince his companion of the futility of his efforts. Barely suppressing a grin, he rapped on the wooden panel. A voice answered almost instantaneously.

"For God's sake, get us out of here," the unknown voice said in German. Biggles said nothing, but coughed gently to let them know someone was still there. The request was repeated, more forcefully this time, but was followed by the clipped tones of von Stahlein which requested curtly that whoever it was was to stop fooling, identify himself and release them. "Lacey has escaped," he went on, "and Bigglesworth might be here at any moment. We must be prepared."

"Oh, I don't think you need do anything," Biggles chuckled, greatly relieved that Algy was no longer a prisoner. "I think you'll do fine just as you are."

"Bigglesworth." von Stahlein uttered, a world of loathing in the word.

"The one and only. Cheer up, von Stahlein. It could be worse."

"You'll pardon me if I fail to understand your quaint English humour, " von Stahlein rejoined, from the other side of the door, a note of bitterness in his voice. "But I fail to see how."

"It could be me in there instead of you."

There was the sound of a splutter followed by a brief silence in which Biggles heard the sound of a car pull up outside. Guessing that they might be unwelcome reinforcements he prepared to leave.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go and I'm sorry also that I'm unable to renew our acquaintance at this time, but, you see, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Maybe we'll be able to catch up with each other again. Toodlepip, as Bertie would say," and after one final double rap on the door Biggles left.

He was a few seconds too late. As he shot out of the front door and down the path a man was just entering through the gate. It was Brunow and three other men were close on his heels.

For a fleeting second Brunow stared but a shot whistling past his ear from Biggles' gun startled him into action. He removed is own and fired. But by then Biggles was no longer on the same spot.

Perceiving that to rush down the path towards four armed men would be suicidal he had turned left. As he did so, the banging and shouting in the house started up again and Biggles heard Brunow tell someone to go and see what it was all about.

Once more he forced his way through the bushes and thick undergrowth towards the side of the house. His only hope of getting away was to scale one of the walls and clamber through to a neighbouring garden.

He came to the side wall almost immediately. It was about eight foot high and was covered with a rambling shrub of some sort, bougainvillea, he thought absentmindedly, as he ran at the wall and grabbed the top. He was only thankful it wasn't a climbing rose, and hoped a dog would not be on the other side. The top of the wall crumbled under his hands and he fell back but he was up in an instant and tried again. As he hauled himself up a hand grabbed his foot. He kicked back viciously. There was a grunt and his foot was released. As he threw himself over the top a shot was fired, followed by von Stahlein's voice reminding his pursuers that he wanted Bigglesworth alive.

He found himself in a neat manicured garden with no cover whatsoever. There was no sign of a dog but a man watering some flowers stood and stared. Biggles ignored him and spun round and fired two shots at his pursuers. The man dropped his hose and fled as Brunow fired back from the top of the wall.

The hose bucked and reared like a bronco, the water shooting from it soaking everything within its range, including Biggles who now ran diagonally across the lawn to the gate. Well aware that now von Stahlein was free the pursuit to catch him would be thorough he wasn't surprised when a man he had never seen before reached the gate from the street, with the intention of cutting him off.

Biggles raised his arm and fired at the man who was in the act of opening the gate. He crumpled and fell against it. Biggles pushed the body aside without compunction and ran into the street, looking around wildly, for something, anything which would get him away quickly from this very unhealthy vicinity. He turned left which took him away from Brunow's house and ran on. He didn't stop to look back but knew his pursuers were close behind him.

A car suddenly screeched to a halt in front of him. He spun round and started to run in a different direction but he hadn't gone ten yards before he was grabbed and unceremoniously bundled into the back of the vehicle, as the sound of gunfire increased.

"Do stop struggling, dear boy," a cut-glass voice said, in English. "You're ruining the cut of my suit. And you're bally well soaking wet. My tailor will have forty fits."

"Bertie!" Biggles sagged in relief but fell sideways as the car shot off rapidly. He sat up and looked around. Ginger was in the driving seat, hunched over the wheel. Algy was beside him, head and arm out of the window firing at Biggles's pursuers. A few seconds later, he pulled his head in and turned round, grinning.

"You certainly believe in leading us a merry dance." He changed the clip on his gun as he was speaking. "We found von Stahlein's note in the Halifax," he went on. "Judging from what the Airport Manager said, we must have missed you by only a couple or minutes. So, as we couldn't let you have all the fun we decided to toddle along to look after you. And it's a good job we did, from what I can see."

"I have to admit it was getting a trifle warm," Biggles conceded as he lit a cigarette. "Step on it, Ginger, they've got a car."

Ginger 'stepped on it'. The element of surprise had given them a few minutes head start but Biggles knew that might not be sufficient. Ginger took some appalling risks, but he knew what he was doing and as they approached the airport Biggles still couldn't see signs of pursuit. However, he wouldn't be able to relax until they were in the air.

They reached the airport without incident but as Biggles knew von Stahlein and his men's arrival would be imminent they lost no time in preparing for their flight. As they sat in the cockpit, waiting for the engines to warm up Algy spotted the Ilyushin. It had a crowd of mechanics round it, some scratching their heads. There appeared to be several heated discussions taking place.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"Yes." Biggles looked across at him and grinned. Algy swore.

Biggles grinned again. "I thought you'd say something like that," he chuckled, but his grin turned to a frown as he spotted a car speeding along the tarmac towards them. "Time we were off, I think. She should be warm enough by now. Not that it matters, " he added. "We don't really have much of a choice."

"Where are we going?" Algy wanted to know as the Halifax sped down the runway. He finched as bullets hit the plane, but didn't move. Hand guns were no threat and Biggles had already started to pull the nose up.

"Port Stanley, I think," Biggles answered as the plane left the tarmac. "Ask Ginger to plot a course, would you?"

Three months later, Five men stood beside a grave in a London cemetery. The weather was abysmal. A sharp wind was blowing, tossing the leaves from the trees to land on the wet earth. Rain beat down upon their uncovered heads, although each one held a hat in his gloved hands. Grass had already covered the mound but a single small new wreath lay upon it. Biggles, accompanied by Algy, Bertie, Ginger and Johnny Crisp, looked at the new headstone which had so recently been placed there. The inscription read: 'Tommy Pearson, who, even in death, served his country one last time.'

There was a moment's silence and then Johnny Crisp spoke. "He'd have liked that." He replaced his hat and started to walk away. The others followed him.

"Well, that's the end of that affair, thank goodness," Algy told Biggles as they walked back to the car.

"Not quite," Biggles told him with a huge smile on his face. "You still owe me for paying off your Aero Club account, remember."

THE END


End file.
